Misplaced Blossom
by Hiei's Cute Girl
Summary: Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.
1. Prologue: Stranger in a strange land

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **This story was born due to the shocking lack of good crossovers between Naruto and the LotR-verse. It's been partly inspired by "Itachi: On the Importance of Communication" and "Do as the Middle-Earthlings Do"; because they are the incredible stories. If you find similarities, I blame the talent of those writers and their inspiring works.**

 **Consider this story a flight of fancy, as most of my stories are, and take it with a pinch of salt. I'm contractually bound to be silly, but… well, LotR deserves to be treated with respect. This IS, however, written entirely on a whim.**

 **Sakura lands somewhere north of Bree, in a pretty quaint forest too close to the Old Forest to be comfortable for anyone who isn't good ol' Tom.**

 **Warning: I won't be overly faithful to the books or films**.

* * *

 **Prologue  
** **Stranger in a strange land**

Sakura registers pain first, above all else. Then comes the rush of sounds; the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds and insects, the whistle of the wind in a forest. Her senses fight for balance as she breathes a lungful of dirt and air, trying to ground herself. She's lying in a forest clearing, the crushed plants, rocks and gnarled roots pressing painfully into her side. Judging from the general peace of her surroundings, there are no humans around. Secure she's safe from enemies, Sakura's inspection turns inwards. She quickly assesses her physical state, finding her ribs bruised, her leg and pelvis broken and her left shoulder a pulverized lump. There are stinging cuts and welts on her skin, but nothing deep.

Groaning, she tries to lever herself up and nearly faints when her world spins. Putting most of her weight on her right arm, she manages to scoot closer to the tree half a foot behind her. Leaning against its sturdy bulk, Sakura frees her one useful limb to do some damage control. As the world around her is frighteningly foreign, she tries to keep her healing to the minimum. A denizen of Konoha, trees are her most welcome and recognized habitat. A forest is her element. This forest, though, is as alien to her as an underwater reef. The trees look nothing like the ones she is used to, the leaves of the bushes around her are odd and large. Even the birds above her head, flying as they hunt for food, give calls she's never heard. Their coloring, black with white tipped wings, is strange. The brief flash of something that looks like a squirrel stuns her as she registers its too long ears, red tail and elongated face.

Quick, not wanting to be caught motionless and helpless, she heals her most pressing wounds. Her ribs are unbroken, only uncomfortable. The mild concussion, she heals; a head-injury, even a tiny one, can prove fatal if left unchecked. Her pelvis and leg are her next concern, as they ground her like a bird without wings. The breaks are clean and easy to heal, allowing Sakura to use her body's natural system to strengthen her bone. Her shoulder proves to be the most difficult wound, forcing Sakura to go into somewhat of a concentrated trance as she struggles to find the shards of her shattered bone and bring them together. To keep her chakra stores from getting too low, she merely pieces it back together, something a patchwork job. Her Shishou would have her head at the sloppy handiwork, but out in the field without her team and in an unknown land… perhaps Tsunade will forgive the rushed procedure. She leaves the surface cuts as they are, merely healing the lowest layer of skin to keep from bleeding and infection. Already her wounds are attracting bugs and she'll need to clean up soon.

Sakura doesn't know exactly how she got here, and her memories of the events before now are fuzzy. Standing with only a slight wince at her movements, she studies her surroundings with a clearer mind.

This forest is definitely unknown to her. The trees are tall and ancient, their girth and considerable size is astounding. Something about them gives Sakura the creeps. It's as though they have a life of their own, brimful with more energy than she's ever seen. Unlike at home, this forest seems to be more alive, almost indecently so. She shakes off the feeling of paranoia, fighting the urge to level the field around her. Fortunately, her pack is on her back and she's mission-armed. She even has her summoning scrolls and medic-jutsu scrolls on her belt. Though severely depleted by her crude healing, her chakra is a strong, steady, comforting hum beneath her skin. She focuses her attention to the forest itself, waiting. After her rise from the forest floor, the animals nearest had fallen silent; as per usual in the presence of a moving predator her size. On a wider inspection, the rest of the wildlife around her is undisturbed and active. There doesn't seem to be many people around these parts. There is a faint sense of something lying beneath the foliage, a power not unlike the wild, pervasive, yet natural chakra of a bijuu. It's as though the Kyuubi itself lies sleeping in the Earth beneath her feet. It's a disturbing feeling that has Sakura prowling forward restlessly. She needs to find a river, a place to wash her wounds in peace. A quick look upwards serves nothing but foliage, so she takes to the treetops. The break in the leaves allows for a better view if the sky. Checking, she registers the late hour by the position of the sun and orients herself.

Several miles south saw a break in the forest and the possibility of a village. It's at least half a day's travel from where she stands. She can't see a river, so she assumes that a place with people would be her best bet. Sighing, she drops down a few feet to land among the heavier, sturdier bottom branches of the tree. It groans, like a living thing, and spooks Sakura almost out of her skin. Deciding this forest is too horribly alive for her peace of mind, she takes to running toward the safety of the tree-less venture down south. If possible, humans mean a place to clean up, rest and orientation. Perhaps even a map and an explanation.

She runs past sunset, using the shadows to remain concealed among the boughs. There's almost nothing around her except wildlife, but her stealth training is a precaution Kakashi had beaten into her during her genin years. In a foreign land, among oddly moving trees, Sakura's guard is in overdrive. Her energy is waning, and Sakura considers hunting for food. She doesn't trust the fruits or leaves around her, but hunting would require a fire to cook her meal. In this forest, a fire doesn't seem to bright an idea. The niggling feeling that one of the trees wouldn't take kindly to her using its branches as kindling is a fantasy she's rather not confirm.

Suddenly, among the darkness of the forest, she spots a break in the trees. A break outlined by the bright, red light of a campfire. Sakura slows down, keeping her steps light and silent as she slows to inspect this strange occurrence. She can detect the presence of something that could be human, so she drops down to a lower level of the thicker, winder branches closer to ground-level. She circles the clearing, inspecting it from different angles before drawing closer. Her wariness is rewarded by the presence of one human male, sitting close to his smokeless fire, gently cooking something that could be either a cat or a hare. She takes the time to observe him, inspecting his weapons, his large pack, long black cloak, and dark features. He looks tall, rakish-like, similar to Kakashi's build. His shoulders are broad, well-muscled, and there's a look of a warrior about him. If she had to guess his age, she would place him between mid to late thirties. His dark hair is long, hanging around his gaunt face in thin strands. Though he appears to be relaxing, she can see the wariness and alertness of his features. From the way he constantly inspects his surroundings, he's either picked up on her presence or naturally on guard.

In an unhappy forest like this one, one would have to be a fool to relax.

Sakura decides to observe him. He should be falling asleep soon and if he leaves any of that hare, she quietly muses stealing it. Perhaps searching his pack would at least present field rations or a map of some kind. The large sword at his side gives her pause and she muses that perhaps she ought to move on. A lone warrior isn't something she ought to be messing with, especially in her current state. A gust of wind could knock her down; a stranger like this could pose a real threat. Still, as civilization is probably a ways away and she's losing energy fast… vandalizing a warrior's pack sounds much better than a continuing trek through this ungodly forest in the dark of night. Darkness is a shinobi's greatest friend, but she's not sure she can brave it alone in her state.

Perhaps, should worst come to pass, she could approach him as a friendly party and kindly request directions. He doesn't seem the friendly type, but there's something about this man that makes her want to trust him. Sakura blames Naruto for making her so gullible to strangers. If she dies here, she'll haunt him. Chains and all.

Settling down among the higher branches hidden in shadows, Sakura keeps her attention dispersed. Something tells her that, should she focus solely on the man below, he'll notice her regard. As the nights deepens, the warrior finishes his dinner and hunkers down to rest. He's irritatingly alert and Sakura wishes he were more incompetent. Remembering herself, she takes off her pack and fishes around. Almost exclaiming in joy, she finds several week's worth of field rations. She nearly hits herself for not checking the contents of her own things; she would have checked the stranger's pack before her own if he had fallen asleep earlier. As it is, she quietly open a protein bar and crunches into it in silence. Noticing the warrior has finally drifted off to sleep, she hovers uncertainly. Should she go down? Now that her appetite is settled, she's starting to feel sleepy herself. The concussion's lingering effects have made her drowsy after settling down and she finds herself hard-pressed to remain awake. Sleeping in a tree has never been her favorite practice when camping out in the field, but going down to the ground is out of the question. Having inspected her surroundings, the man clearly traveled on the ground and no living being Sakura's size wandered around the treetops. If anything, the moss on all of the branches is insultingly undisturbed. A Konoha forest is not a forest if its branches aren't well traveled by the ninjas going about their business. The people of these parts clearly prefer to travel exclusively on foot on the ground; much like Sand or Mist ninja, who couldn't be bothered to hop along the branches like the Leaf or Rock ninja did.

Being somewhat cautious, Sakura decides against tying herself to the tree. Though she would normally do this to avoid a nasty spill, she's too wary of her surroundings to risk an extra second of stillness in exchange for safety from a fall. If she's caught unawares, she needs to move fast. So she simply settles down with her pack against her lower back, keeping somewhat out of sight from the warrior beneath.

Sakura next awakens with a jolt to the aggressive sound of an arrowhead sinking into tree bark too close for comfort. She sits upright, hastening to find an escape route. With a sick feeling, she realizes that last night… the tree limb she'd been sitting on had been facing north-west. She'd still had the strange warrior in view. Now, she's facing completely north as the sky breaks with dawn, completely hidden and unable to see the warrior. The shaking arrow is entirely on the other side of the tree instead of in her skull.

That's one heck of a warning shot.

Wondering how the tree had twisted, probably saving her life, Sakura hesitantly stands. The wide shape of the tree keeps her mostly hidden, but an icy voice below barks a command. Sakura can't quite catch what the warrior said, but it didn't sound friendly. Kicking herself internally for her folly in failing to notice he'd woken up, she makes up her mind. Perhaps if she shows herself as harmlessly as possible, he'll let her off the hook. In the hands of a fellow shinobi, there would have been no warning shot. A kunai to the jugular would have been her only alarm, so Sakura decides to trust that oddly lenient warning shot as her chance that perhaps she can walk away alive from this.

Hands cautiously raised, Sakura peers around the tree trunk.

* * *

Whatever had been watching him since last night clearly hadn't been interested in theft or threat. The sense of being watched had put Aragorn on edge, and he'd half-slept to keep from being attacked entirely unawares. As dawn began to break and light filtered through the clearing, Aragorn decided it best to draw the creature out. He wanted no spies of Sauron on his tail with his plans to meet the ring bearer, so it was best to cut to the chase. Trusting his instincts, despite the fact he couldn't see the creature, he shot at a tree in the north side of the clearing. As the arrow buries deep into the bark, there is a soft rustle among the leaves.

"Show yourself!" he orders in a growl, another arrow already firmly pointed at the direction of the noise. He'd missed by aiming too low, but it's as good a warning shot as any.

It's astonishing when a human hand appears, pale in the morning gloom. It's followed by a pink head, the wildly colorful hair framing a pale face with wide green eyes. For a moment, Aragorn wonders if he's awoken a forest fairy, spirit or God. It's feminine features are uncommonly pretty, an almost elven face made up of colors that would put a spring field of flowers to shame. It peers out at him from behind a tree, holding up both hands as if to plead for mercy. Still, he's never heard of a God with hair as pink as a cosmos, or with eyes as green as leaves. It shocks him even more when, as he gestures for it to come down from its perch, the creature vaults down from the forest gloom to land before him. Instead of breaking a leg from such a high jump, it lands poised like a cat, standing gracefully before him.

Though it wears a heavy black cloak, the creature still holds its hands up. Due to this, the cloak parts enough to he can study it with greater detail. It's dressed entirely in black, with armor covering its chest and protective gauntlets over its forearms and wrists. It wears a pair of sturdy boots and, to his surprise, appears to have a feminine figure. It's slim, almost frail, with heavy lashes around almond-shaped eyes. Despite all his travels, he's never quite seen anything like it. It's watching him warily, and he wonders if it's a warrior or mercenary of some sort. Clearly, it's human, but there was nothing human about it's colorful hair or it's ability to jump from high places. How had it gotten into the trees anyway? However, it's disheveled state is what draws his curiosity even more. There are a series of cuts littering the little visible skin, and worse, he can see how she clearly favors her left leg and curls in slightly as if her ribcage is in pain. There's a bruise on it's exposed forehead as well, marring the pale skin like an ugly brand.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" he asks in a demanding tone. The creature's brows come down in what appears to be puzzlement. "Where did you come from? Why are you spying on me?"

Looking more and more confused, the creature shakes its head, then rubs its ears. Aragorn wonders if perhaps it does not speak in Common. He tries the same questions in different languages, even making a poor attempt at Dwarven. It shakes its head again, its expression growing horrified.

It then speaks to him, in a high, female voice. He'd expected a singing voice, perhaps a seduction technique. Instead, its voice is human, simply speaking in an arrangement of sounds he'd never heard before. Even the accent is foreign to him, and he realizes its repeating the same sounds over and over. Perhaps it's a chant or spell? He tightens his hold on his bow, aiming squarely at her chest. At this threatening gesture, the creature instantly grows silent. It's staring intently at his chest and Aragorn recognizes a fighter's attempt to gauge and preempt his attacks. His grip on the bow is taut, and just before he lets the arrow loose, the creature's head snaps to his left over his shoulder. Hissing something in a low voice, it suddenly jumps away, back up onto a tree limb above. In his surprise, Aragorn shoots and stares in disbelief when the creature catches the shaft between two fingers mere inches from its face. It glances down at him with an eyebrow raised almost challengingly. Then, to his surprise, his previous arrow embedded in the tree falls suddenly. The arrow in the creature's hand flips and it sends it back, the tip burying itself in the ground between his feet. In a whirl of leaves, the creature is gone.

* * *

Sakura stares at the strange man as he snaps at her. He's made a variety of sounds, which she supposes must be different dialects or languages, but she doesn't understand him. Distressed, she tries to talk herself.

"Who are you? What is this place?" she repeats various times, hoping perhaps that his vast knowledge of languages would include hers. The five Nations had all one common tongue, so Sakura had never been versed in any languages apart from her own. When he suddenly grows more hostile, she instantly stops talking, staring warily at his chest. At this distance, her reaction time may not be enough to dodge or catch the arrow before it hits her. Worse, as he's aiming toward her torso, it's likely that, even if she dodges, she'll get struck by the bolt.

The wind carries a hint of unwashed human somewhere south and the hushed sound of voices. Her gaze snaps to look for this advancing threat as her senses register the presence of more people. Something tells her that she wouldn't like being caught between the warrior and more people, especially since she can't even communicate properly with him!

Deciding it best to turn tail (and get some distance from those damn arrows), Sakura jumps back onto her tree. The sound of the bow snapping gives her enough time to snatch the missile, giving the warrior a cold look. He might have had the upper hand with that weapon at a closer distance, but being so far made it more or less pointless against her. Points for trying, though. In thanks for the trees protection of her, Sakura gently heals the wound made by the previous arrow. As the bark grows, it pushes the weapon out, leaving only an unblemished surface. To prove her point in the uselessness of his weapon now, she tosses his arrow right back at his feet. The warrior stares at the discarded arrow at his feet in surprise before looking back up.

She's already gone. Three feet to the south and moving, she grins and she munches down on the remains of his dinner. It's cold, but Sakura takes all the protein she can get. Spitting out the hare bones, she continues her trek toward her previous goal. As her meeting with the warrior had proved useful, she hadn't taken his pack as well as his breakfast. Her ignorance of the local language would prove a problem, and worse, it showed exactly how far from home she was.

Growling under her breath, she wonders what the hell happened to bring her here.

* * *

Aragorn stares blandly at the spot once occupied by the creature. Clearly, it had to have been a spirit or a fairy, nothing he'd ever seen moved that fast. Sensing he is alone once more, unable to hear it moving about, he simply sets to picking up his belongings and set off. With mild surprise, he realizes the hare he'd left to eat for breakfast is gone. Deciding perhaps a fox or wolf got to it during the night, he simply packs up and disguises all trappings of a human encampment. Should anyone stumble onto this place, they'd never find the remains of his stay. As he recovers his pack, he thinks over his encounter with the creature with greater care. Something didn't quite sit right with him when it had spoken, and he belatedly realizes what it is. When he'd spoken, everything he had said had been a question. And when it had responded, despite the foreign words, he could have sworn that before it paused and started anew, the last word held a slight intonation. A lower, then higher note, if you will, one he commonly recognized across all the languages he had ever learnt.

The creature had been asking him a question.

As he walks south towards Bree, his brows knit in confusion. Whatever it had been saying, it had not been a chant as he had first assumed. Like himself, it had been asking him a question; repeating it over and over… perhaps in hope he'd know what it was trying to say. In his experience, spirits and fairies didn't bother with most mortals. Engrossed in his thoughts, it takes Aragorn a while to notice something strange in the forest. This deep, apart from the clearing behind him, the trees should be crowding around him like hostile sardines. Instead, as if pushed by an invisible hand, the trees toward the south seemed to be gone. His path to Bree is near clear-cut, as though one of the Gods had gently pushed the foliage aside. Senses going into high alert, he reaches subtly for his sword, glancing about. There are no tracks besides those of the forest, but this sudden space is making him uneasy. He'd crossed this path before between the Shire and Bree, and the forest had always been densely populated by old, somewhat belligerent trees and shrubs. He'd heard many a tale of the Old Forest simply swallowing travelers, and in this small outcropping of trees, the sentient magic of those ancient woods had grown in influence. He keeps his blade sheathed, to keep the looming behemoths appeased, but something is amiss. As he walks with deliberate slowness, he begins to hear the murmur of voices. His head snaps in that direction and he's alarmed to note that… the creature had done the same earlier. It had looked over his shoulder, southward. The creature had noticed, and so fled, that they were not alone in the forest. Wanting to kick himself for not noticing sooner, Aragorn flees to the nearest copse of trees. To his bewilderment, the trees don't get any closer the further he walks. Alarmed, Aragorn stops dead in his tracks.

Just as three scavengers walk around the bend ahead, all of them spotting him as he spots them. Their mouths open into ungainly smiles, delighted at the prospect of a lonesome traveler. Suspecting that the woods may have lead the men here, he curses softly under his breath. He shouldn't have shot the tree back in the clearing… Deciding to stall for time, he calls to the scavengers. As long as they don't draw any weapons, Aragorn prefers to use words. He knows that his skills would far outmatch them, but he's never liked fighting against Men.

"Ho, there, travelers. Could you kindly direct me to Bree?" The men laugh raucously, as Aragorn stands with his right hand outstretched. Behind him, his left hand gently loosens his sword in its sheath. "I've not much money and I could use a place to rest."

"No' much money, 'e says." One of the scavengers mocks, grinning widely. The others chuckle maliciously, and Aragorn resists the urge to unsheathe his sword threateningly. They converge on him, knives drawn, and he falls back. As the first of them lunges, Aragorn swiftly dodges and brings out his sword in one clean move. The men hesitate at the sight of an elven blade, but the price of such a treasure incites them to attack even more ferociously. Aragorn parries the second man's knife and kicks the third in the knee, spinning to keep all three of them in his line of sight. The men are used to fighting as a team and they constantly move about as they attack, making Aragorn rely heavily on his footwork to avoid a surprise. When an opening presents itself, he manages to duck into the first scavenger's defenses, burying his blade hilt-deep even as he grimaces apologetically. The feeling of movement behind him makes him turn, already drawing his blade out of the body in one clean swipe.

But for naught.

Behind him stands the forest spirit, cloaked and holding the two remaining scavengers as though they are dolls. One of the men lays on the floor, his neck savaged, his head kept aloft by the creature's hand it his hair. The other hangs almost a foot in the air, wriggling wildly in its hold. The spirit looks back at him, green eyes vivid and fierce. There seems to be a question in them as it presents him with the third and only living scavenger. Like a cat presenting its owner with a near-dead bird or mouse, asking for permission to kill it. Aragorn nods, then wonders if a nod means the same thing to the creature as it does to him. He starts and stares when the spirit simply uses one finger to the side of the man's head to tilt and casually break his neck.

It then seems to sigh and drops both men. It turns fully to him, with Aragorn wondering if it will now kill him too. The trees around him seem to gather, as though gleefully expecting his demise. Instead, the creature claps its hands together, as though saying "that's that!" and simply vanishes in a swirl of leaves. The Ranger stares about, startled and confused, but decides it would perhaps be best to get out of these woods. The trees seem particularly bloodthirsty this time, and if that creature lives here, he'd rather not remain about like a sitting duck. He's a week early to when Gandalf told him he'd arrive at the Prancing Pony with the hobbits, but making due haste wouldn't hurt anyone. So, Aragorn beats a hasty retreat from the haunted woods and their frightening Battle God.

* * *

Sakura watches from her hiding spot in the canopy above. Since that morning, the woods around her seemed to have taken an odd liking to her. After all, her sleeping tree had taken an arrow for her. Perhaps because when she moved about their branches, she was polite, avoiding thin branches, bee hives, bird's nests and butterfly cocoons. The trees sentience still bothers her, considering she had actually witnessed them actively corner the warrior below. Worse, she can feel the branches and boughs bend, as though hiding her from the stranger's prying eyes. Her forests were her home, but this is a little beyond her limitations of understanding. She _is_ glad they'd grown fond of her. She hates to think what they would do to her if she angered them like the dark warrior now running at a loping pace. Choosing to keep him in her sights, Sakura touches each near branch in thanks, and scuttles off before she thinks too hard about it.

It seems there's civilization ahead, and perhaps she can find answers there.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 4,600**

 **As I said, I wrote this entirely on a whim, so don't expect an epic tale. I've just been so absorbed in CRUMBLING that I felt I needed something a little calmer to pace myself from the angst and future romance of that little adventure in writing.**

 **So you get this! Hurrah? You know how LotR goes, I know how it goes… so let's just have funsies and let live. (Yes, depending on the question, a person's intonation rises and/or falls. In most languages, the intonation tends to fall, then rise; Cambridge Dictionary call it a Fall-Rise Intonation.)**

 **Aragorn and Sakura as listed as main characters because they are the** _ **narrators**_ **, nothing more. My OTP in LotR is Arwen/Aragorn. (My sister and I still boo at that smarmy princess of the horse-pony people when she tries to pull them maiden-moves on our Ranger; both in the movies and the books, because we're cultured like that. P.S. I know her name, I know her people's name, I just love pulling her hair whenever I can, OK?) User It's-Kraggie _had_ to go and make me a fan of Sakura/Aragorn as sworn siblings, so go blame her for that.**

 **In most of the stories I've found, people gloss over the differences in language. Only two stories have paid more attention to it, being The Grim Traveler and Itachi: On the importance of communication. As it's a juicy way to stir the plot-pot, I wanted the language barrier nice and present. So, you have Sakura speaking Japanese to Aragorn's English. HARHAR.**

 **I, uh, wrote this in about an hour, hour and a half. It shows, I think.**


	2. The Gods must be Crazy

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Woah, I never thought I'd get such a response from the readers. It was lovely and surprising, and I'm really thankful. I thought, as this is a crossover, I would be writing this pretty much mostly by myself. But all of you proved me entirely wrong and I really wanted to thank all of you for choosing to join me on this little ride.**

 **About the Hiraishin, it's treated as a sort of summoning technique or Fuinjutsu. As a medic, Sakura is familiar with Fuinjutsu, since she uses them often in difficult procedures. She also has a summoning contract with the slug boss, so she's familiar with it as well. As one of the Nidaime's signature moves (and considering her master is a Senju and his grand-niece), it's highly likely that Sakura has been exposed to the technique. Additionally, it's Naruto-papa's most useful weapon, so that's a double-guarantee that she's seen it, if not studied it. Knowing Sakura, she's analyzed that jutsu to death. So don't go saying she can't do it, hear? Space-time warping requires massive chakra discharge, but my girl can perform it on her good days, don't you doubt it.**

 **Warning: Sakura-stalking, because she's a ninja. Some might call it ninjing, in honor of The Middle Ground.**

* * *

 **Chapter One  
** **The Gods must be Crazy**

Following the dark warrior is turning out to be an entire Odyssey for Sakura. His steps are light and quick, he knows how to hide his trail and double-track to dissuade any stalkers. Sakura is no normal stalker, she's a ninja. She's also a ninja whose team-leader is a renowned tracker and whose classmate is so good at it, he can do it blindfolded. Though she does not have their famous noses, she knows enough medical ninjutsu to improve her vision and sense of smell, trailing the stranger man's distinctive scent and tracks through the undergrowth. He's so careful, his footfalls barely leave a mark, but this country is wet and prone to rain. The mud faithfully leads her precisely where she needed to go.

She's _so_ glad she asked Kiba for those pointers before he jounin test. A chuunin required minimal tracking skills, but a jounin needs to be a resourceful stalker. Her test had been to track Jiraya, and the thrice-damned Sanin had given her a merry chase through kingdom come, until she'd finally hounded him down at a bathhouse. She'd set the entire body of female patrons on him as revenge… sweet, sweet revenge.

Now, though, she's glad for the challenge he had presented. No one beat the legendary Sanin at his own game without a high-level of skill, and his evasion skills were phenomenal. This dark stranger couldn't put a dent in her Shishou's teammate. That doesn't mean the tall swordsman isn't putting her through her paces. It's driving Sakura up the wall.

They've been at it for five miles already, with Sakura continuously following him along the maze of trees and dense growth. The trees have been helpful, bending their branches for Sakura to always keep her prey in her sights. Perhaps she shouldn't be quite so determined to chase him like a bloodhound, but he'd let her live twice. Additionally, her instincts are clamoring, demanding that this man be followed. Sakura's always followed her gut, and this time is no exception.

The man is heavily paranoid and twice does Sakura have to rely on the perfected technique of ducking into the cover of dense foliage to avoid perception. For someone who seems a civilian, as she can sense no refinement in his chakra, he's rather sensitive to the world around him. It takes every ounce of sneakiness in Sakura's repertoire to stay a step ahead of him. Her genjutsu is advanced, but her chakra levels are not deep enough for constant use. Especially considering she's still running rather low after yesterday's incomplete healing session. Worse, her shoulder feels as though a horse decided to take a merry stroll on it. She's been siphoning off her energy into it whenever she gets the chance to catch her breath, soothing the deep-seated ache with whatever chakra she can spare. Sakura knows that the moment she lays down to sleep, the migraine she can feel building in her temples will act up. It's only the aftermath of her concussion, and Sakura should be so lucky she gets off only with a woozy sensation, nausea and a painful headache.

Still, she nearly cheers when the clever warrior finally takes a beaten path, clearly on the road for civilization, even if a bit grass-grown. She will stand out like a sore thumb if she tries to insinuate herself on the road now, clad in all black when the citizens she's seen (apart from the taciturn warrior) wear bright, gay colors. Perhaps reaching a larger crowd she can blend in, but he'll notice her in a heartbeat if she tries to do so now. She keeps paces ahead of him, encompassing him in her senses but allowing him out of her sight. He's shown himself to be sensitive beyond measure, and now that she's only a few feet away, she's certain he'll spot her in the diminishing forest treetops. She's beginning to grow nervous as the trees really do begin to grow scarce, so she falls back. In the gleam of the afternoon sun, her black clothes will mark her presence in the green leaves too noticeably. The next bend on the road will allow for cover and she can already see the high gates of the village he'll possibly stop at. She wishes she had the seal for the _Hiraishin_ , so she could discreetly place it somewhere on her target's clothes. Thought she's been studying the technique, the huge use of chakra for the placement of the seal would take a toll on her already depleted reserves. As she carries no specially marked kunai (it's on her to-do list, she swears it!), she'd have to manually apply the seal directly, which requires a huge investment of chakra for it's placement. Once placed, though, she could access it with minimal loss to her reserves. Sometimes, Sakura dearly wishes she had cultivated her chakra a little bit more.

So, instead, she creates a small shadow clone, henged to look like the red-tailed squirrel she'd seen yesterday. It scurries off, flying from tree to tree and racing across the road to reach the next outcropping of trees on the other side, conveniently close to the village gates. Deciding this is probably the best possible moment for her to eat a bit and nap in peace, she delves a little further back to hide in a cozy alcove of interwoven branches along the high, dizzying tops of the largest trees.

* * *

Finally reaching Bree, Aragon feels the respite from the forest he left behind. Unlike the night he'd spent under the creature's watch, this time, he had simply had the sensation that he was being closely monitored. He couldn't detect the presence of anything living or moving, and despite all his efforts, nothing shook his persistent tail. As the forest had been restless during most of the night and the entire morning he spent racing through it, Aragorn had guessed that the feeling of surveillance came from the very same trees around him, looming ominously. The woods were restless and angry, probably stirred by the presence of the Enemy. The feeling only strengthens his resolve in getting the young hobbits and Gandalf to the safety of Rivendell. Aragorn hesitates briefly to see that the gates are closed, but the gatekeeper lets him in on sight. As a Ranger, they are intimidated by him, but respect him. The citizens of Bree know how much the Rangers have worked to keep their borders safe. Still, it's with some concern that Aragorn learns of the Black Riders that have been passing through for the last few days. This means the Ring Wraiths have been on Gandalf's tail for a while. He wonders if he really should wait, or if he should start tracking the old wizard and his hobbits. Knowing the Nine would be behind them, it's likely that Gandalf would not be traveling by the most direct road from Bree-land to the Shire. The Brandywine bridge connected to a road that would take him near-directly to the gates of Bree, but with the Nine Riders abroad, Gandalf could have taken the direct path through the Old Forest to protect the hobbits from the Enemy. Should he try to track them, it would take him several days merely to _find_ their traces, much less follow them into those woods. The Old Forest might not welcome his intrusion and it could turn him around just as much as lead him straight to the hobbits. After his experience in the northern Chetwood, he's sure that he won't make it in time to come and go by the time Gandalf arrives.

He has perhaps a couple of days' waiting in the wings, and as soon as he's allowed past the village gates, he makes his way toward the Prancing Pony. Despite the deepening shadows as day begins to fade, the central hub is full of people shopping, selling their wares, having afternoon tea or simply taking a stroll. Despite the closed Gates, the people of Bree are merry folk who like to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. There's a brief whiff of manure as Aragorn passes close to the stables, but as he has no horse this time, he merely bypasses the merchant stalls and large stables on his way to the Prancing Pony. As the only tall, cloaked in black, hooded person among the throng, Strider is afforded his own personal bubble in the crowd. This makes it fairly easy for him as he makes his way to his destination. The Inn is where Gandalf often enjoys a pint or two of ale, and his generous patronage has earned him a free pass to any business that should transpire (without damaging property, of course).

As a friend of Gandalf and a Ranger, Strider's patronage is solemnly received, and he's left mostly to his own devices. This in due part to the Grey Wizard, the other to the pretty coin he gently tucks into the Innkeeper's hands. He's given a room on the second floor in the east wing, with the window facing the north and close to the hobbit quarters. It's an odd choice, as it's a room for two people, but as Butterbur charged him for one, Aragorn decides not to comment. Perhaps there are no more rooms available, as the fair had probably filled the Inn to bursting. It smells vaguely of the accumulated scents from the barroom below, so he opens the window to air the room out. He'll probably be staying here for a week at most, so he prefers to be comfortable from the get-go. He nearly yells in surprise when a red squirrel darts up the tree trunk by his window, winding around the different branches in a scurrying search for food or refuge. It stops, cleaning its whiskers neatly, before scampering away in a furious flurry of limbs. He blinks, astonished one of them has come so far into a human settlement without one of the village wives taking a knife to it. Red squirrels, generally tolerated while in the wild, are pests in any kind of civilian setting. He supposes it must have just come in, as the Prancing Pony is rather close to the gates and the ancient trees around the inn are permanent fixtures.

Deciding it would probably be best to get some food and some rest, Aragon orders for his dinner to be served early. He's never really comfortable enough to sleep deeply, but last night had afforded little rest in the creature's odd presence. As he waits for his food, Aragorn sits down to smoke and think. He's still not entirely sure how he knew the creature had even been present last night. It had made no noise when it had arrived at his campsite and his sensitive nose had noticed no change in scent, as it had planted itself downwind of him. (Of course, as a spirit, it probably had no scent… but Aragorn is starting to doubt his labeling of its true nature.) Judging from the way the trees hadn't been hostile toward it, the forest probably held that creature in esteem. It has inhuman grace and strength, holding a man aloft with little effort and breaking his neck using only a finger. It had also been noiseless when it had walked toward him after the battle, not even rustling the grass under it's feet. With a furrowed brow, Aragorn tries to recall that sensation he'd felt…

It had started with the feeling that he was being observed, to be sure, but there had been a warmth in the air. As thought someone had lit a fire close-by, a warm pyre to give warmth to strangers. A sort of strange sensation, similar to the rise of the sun, giving gusts of warmth to the chill of the night air. Like how being near the elves brought a sense of peace. A feeling of when a friend is close… this thought abruptly comes to a standstill. The sensation had been strange, to be sure, and Aragorn had felt nothing like it before. There are only impressions of past experiences that he can really attach to try and understand what he'd felt. It takes him a moment to realize with a vague unease that he hadn't felt any hostility. A stillness, sure, but nothing like the open hostility of the scavengers or even the subtle, bloodthirsty one of the forest. For all of it's power and strength, the creature had not displayed any aggression towards him. He's glad to be free of it, to be sure, but he's also glad he didn't manage to shoot it.

A knock on his door signals the return of Nob, who smiles as he ushers in with a tray laden with the usual, greasy food Butterbur is famous for. Aragorn takes it with a polite nod, as the hobbit quickly leaves the Ranger in peace. He cleans and clears his pipe, then sits down to eat, looking out the window as the sun begins to set.

What if there are more like the creature?

* * *

Sakura levers herself up, watching the night sky with care. Last night, she'd used the sun for guidance and hadn't looked for orientation from the sky. Now, she's glad she didn't. At home, she knows precisely how to find her way home using the stars for navigation all year long. Hell, she'd even been taught by Kankuro which constellations would bring her unerringly to Suna in every season, just in case she ever got lost in the desert. Ninja depended heavily on the stars, especially when heading home from a strange place. During Sasuke's defections, Sakura remembered hoping he wouldn't forget which constellations would bring him back. Her stomach bottoms out as she looks hopelessly at the sky.

She can't recognize it.

In a vague way, she had been hoping civilization would bring a map to her arms, sure, but she'd known that heading home from there would be as simple as facing the right direction. From there, it would only take a while for her to head home. She'd set off back to her home, her family, her friends and her loved ones. Naruto would laugh and joke she'd been harder to find than Sasuke. Kakashi would ruffle her hair and comment how late she was in coming home. Sai would make a snide remark on her looks even as he would awkwardly pat her shoulder. Tsunade would pull her into a hug and threaten to lock her up for life if she ever went missing again. Her parents would cook her favorite meal and welcome her home with big smiles. Ino would bring a thousand bottles of hard liquor and make her swear to never leave again. Looking at this foreign sky, with stars arranged in impossible patterns… helplessness sets in. Agony saws at her heart, worse than the time she was told Naruto might be dead.

 _Where am I?_

Tears fill her eyes and Sakura pounds over her chest, trying to keep her emotions contained. A ninja is not supposed to cry, damnit! She swipes at her face, sniffling noiselessly. The darkness of the forest may contain an unknown threat, so she cannot fall into despair. Swallowing all sobs, Sakura takes brief comfort in the branches curled tenderly around her. During her episode, the trees had reacted to her sorrow by encasing her almost entirely in their wood. Its protective cocoon brings a smile to Sakura's face, and she touches the rough bough with palpable gratitude. The branches unwind, letting the breeze back in. She notices they had woven a roof over her head, blocking her view of the sky that had pained her so much. It's so similar to how Yamato would quietly, but serenely solve a problem; gently steering his team in the proper direction. These woods remind her strongly of her captain and she presses her forehead on the trunk of the tree she's sitting on, trying to express how grateful she is with every fiber of her being. A leaf brushes her cheeks tenderly, and Sakura feels comforted. She may be far from home, but she is a child born in the woods; a daughter of the Leaf. From her core, the Will of Fire begins to burn once more, determined to go home. She solemnly swears to return to her homeland, hidden in the leaves; to return to the embrace of her friends. Thanking the trees, she traces a hand along their branches before nodding, resolved. The man from before had been her best bet, and she would chase him to the ends of the Earth if need be.

Finally fully rested and somewhat well-fed, Sakura can finish healing the last vestiges of the wounds she'd accumulated. Healing the bruises, cuts, and completing the job on her shoulder takes time, and it is moonrise when she finishes. From what she can tell, since near sundown, her shadow clone has remained in the same place. It's probable that the warrior has found a place to rest, possibly a hostel or inn, maybe he even lives here. With a parting pat to the trees, she sets off toward the village. The woods might have creeped the hell out of her when she first arrived, but they're the only reminder of home that she has now. She owes it a debt of gratitude for all of its help and for grounding her when she nearly gave into despair. Halting for a moment, she turns and waves at the receding tree line, almost smiling when the branches weaving in the wind appear to wave back.

It's go time.

The village gates are waist height, and she can spot a large building at the center of town. Unlike in Konoha, where the buildings are often large, looming and with three floors or more, this place is rather small and quaint, near the shoulders of small hills that crest to the south west. It reminds her vaguely of Suna, with only two stories to the homes, thatched roofs and generally humble people. Suna is a sprawling shinobi city, of course, so this village is a thimble in comparison. Over the gates, she can spot some writing lit by the gatekeeper's lantern, but it's in runes she cannot understand. With a grimace, she realizes she doesn't know their written language either. As it's a crescent moon, the night is dark, allowing Sakura to move about with ease. She pulls on a hair covering usually reserved for her covert missions and pulls up the hood. Just by looking at the people, she's noticed that those of her odd coloring are near-null. In fact, she's barely even spotted blonds! It's no wonder the warrior had looked at her like she was a ghost or freak. No one in these parts has bright red hair, much less her bubblegum pink. Even Naruto, with his rather tame coloring of blond hair and blue eyes, would stand out. (Not that his height, taste in clothes and attitude doesn't do that for him at home.)

Most of the folk here have mousy brown or black hair, with soft brown or black eyes; she's only spotted a minority with blue eyes. She wonders if she should do a henge on herself and decides against it. It would be a waste of chakra right now, and she needs to at least find some water. She's already parched, and her lips have begun to bleed. It's been nearly a day since she last had a drink of water, and she'll soon start showing signs of severe dehydration. Under the cover of near-pitch darkness, Sakura stealthily makes her way to the gate. The gatekeeper is currently questioning the arrival of other travelers, so Sakura makes use of his distraction to swiftly jump over the obstacle. Following her link to her shadow clone, she weaves among the buildings, sticking to the shadows. Most of the people here are in their homes, probably enjoying a good dinner, or, judging from the rowdy song she can hear being blared from the large Inn ahead, a good drink. She's had to avoid a few alleys as there are still some people, whom she presumes are probably merchants, packing up their wares from what was probably a busy market day. As this village seems to have been basically built over a large road, it's main recourse of economy is likely the passage of travelers. From the smell ahead, they probably deal often in horses, selling good, sturdy breeds to people who need a fresh steed.

Her link to her clone leads her straight to a large building, much larger than the homes and shops around it. (Or, at least, Sakura assumes they're shops. Perhaps people around here have such large windows with display cases in their homes, who is she to judge?) It runs along the main road the village is built on, three stories high and with two additional wings on the sides, which run back on land seemingly cut out of the lower slopes of the hill behind it. The door is open with light streaming out of it, so Sakura avoids it, instead rounding across the wing on the left. There are a few trees planted close to the building, and she uses its shadow to remain undetected by the windows that face the northern side that looks to have been dug _into_ the mountain. Sakura takes a moment to understand this architecture, which is unlike anything she has ever seen. She'd gone to Iwagakure once on a diplomatic mission to accompany Tsunade, but even they didn't dig into their mountains. Though they'd carved their very homes out of the stone (something Tsunade had wrinkled her nose at, since it gave the place a very distinct… smell), they hadn't gone so far as to build homes as though they were holes in their hills. Worse, she'd never seen a place with round doors, making her stare almost disbelievingly at the odd design of those apartments that seemed part of the Inn. Finally able to look away from the odd, and curiously smaller structures on the hill, Sakura keeps to the tree's shadow. Her clone chirps from somewhere above, hidden among the leaves and branches of the tree closest to the building. Preferring to find water first, she signals for it to stay and keep watch on the warrior. Knowing it will do as she says, she focuses on her surroundings.

There's an adjacent building to the Inn, which may be a wash or outhouse of some sort. She's extremely disappointed to find it's only a warehouse, resisting the urge to rub her itchy skin where the blood remains dried. Biting her lip, she wonders if she should scale the building and find a bath house. Though she is far from home, perhaps the people here have a public bath house she can break into. Coming to a decision, Sakura vaults to the tree and carefully scales it to remain unseen, hopping onto the roof with extreme care. Unlike the other buildings around it, the roof is tiled, but her steps could echo to the rooms below. She keeps her body low, as anyone looking out of their windows would find a figure on the roof to be odd and perhaps raise the alarm.

She almost cries in relief when, on the opposite side by the west wing, there's a well and a building that appears to be exhaling steam through the chimneys. It looks like a wash house, but Sakura prefers hot water over cold water any day. Normally, she would jump from the roof of the Inn onto the wash house but doing so would make her painfully visible. So instead she climbs back down on the side of the Inn, keeping close to the wall to avoid being visible from the windows or the building on the other side of the road. As there are no trees on this side, Sakura must cast a low-level genjutsu to avoid detection in order to cross the courtyard. Pushing chakra to her feet, she dashes in a blink to the well, looking into its depths. There's a pail on the lip of the well, which she picks up and throws in a controlled drop into the water below. Using the rope, she avoids letting the pail splash and brings out water as fast as she can without dropping the pail. Moonlight lets her see the water is clear, but she touches it with a chakra charged finger to both check for poison and eradicate bacteria or viruses. Being a foreigner means that water could carry all sorts of pathogens she isn't immune to, so she prefers to err on the side of caution.

She can't exactly do this alone, she creates another small shadow clone to help her wash her hands. Sakura instructs her clone to pour some water while crouching close to the ground on her hands, washing them free of dirt and blood. Her clone fetches water for her again as Sakura dries her hands with a small, undetectable burst of chakra. This second time, the clone carefully pours water on her hands in short bursts, allowing Sakura to purify and drink the water in small gulps. Her clone fetches water a third time, which Sakura then purifies and has the clone pour into a canteen she takes out of her pack. Finally done, she leaves the pail exactly as it had been, dispels her clone, and dashes to the wash house. She might need to head to the well again if there is no way to fetch it in the wash house, so she leaves the genjutsu she's placed on the courtyard intact. Senses straining, she calms her heart and breathing to detect with greater nuance whether someone is in the wash house. Theoretically, she could knock out whomever is in there with her pinky, but that would eventually lead to trouble should her mischief be detected. As the warrior is staying at an Inn, he's likely to move on soon. Sakura prefers to leave the mark of her passage through this village as unremarked as possible.

She hears no noises in the building, so she checks the windows with gently probing fingers, finding them stuck fast. Opening them might require strength or even breakage, so she'll have to try the door. Happily, the door is unlocked, and Sakura is glad she'd set a full illusion on the entire courtyard, for the door opens with an unwholesome creak. Annoyed by the horror-movie worthiness of the creak, Sakura almost faints with relief when there's not a living soul in the building to have heard it. Her genjutsu would have covered the noise to an outside observer, but anyone in there would have heard it loud and clear. Though it's a detailed illusion, it's not a particularly powerful one for the sake of not wasting too much of her waning chakra. She inspects the building thoroughly, taking her time to be sure that nothing can be seen from the outside. It's stifling in the room, even with the furnaces down to a bearable temperature as the wash house will probably remain unused throughout the night. Still, judging from the patrons she can hear despite the late hour, the Inn is a very busy place, so every fire is probably kept lit all day. The low lighting of the fires affords her with a detailed, if a bit murky view of the entire place. There are a few, simmering large pots placed over the fires, probably where they wash cloths, towels and clothes from the Inn. Some of them appear to even be in use, boiling hot water with lather pouring occasionally over the sides.

With a triumphant smile, Sakura notices smaller, clean pots hanging from the walls, possibly set out for emergencies or for the delicate fabrics. There are long strips of cloths hanging from the ceiling, which she assumes are for tables; she can see some towels folded delicately in neat stacks and several sets of brightly colored cloths arranged by the door. Sakura grins delightedly when she notes the water pump close by the door, probably fed water from the same aquifer that feeds the well outside. Deciding that her clothes could do with a wash and some mending, she puts a sensor jutsu on the door as a means to know if anyone is coming close. With that done, she checks the pots. One of them is half full and in a low simmer, containing nothing but water and soap. Finding a bar of soap is easy, so she undresses quickly. Having once had to live in a remote village in the north of the Fire Country while helping stop an epidemic, Sakura's used to these more archaic methods of washing clothes. She drops her long-sleeved shirt, cloak and pants in there, standing in only her underwear, breast band and boots. Her black _tabi_ she drops inside too, wriggling her toes in her boots. There's a scrubbing board nearby, so she sets that up with the bar of soap, while she places one of the smaller pots over some glowing embers. She feeds that diminishing flame with more wood, blowing until she has a steadier fire. It doesn't take long for the pot to begin glowing as it heats up, so Sakura fetches water to pour into the pot with a metal pail hanging by the pump. Embarrassingly, she needs to use a bit of chakra to work the pump and wonders if the workmen here are really that strong. Or maybe they'd just rather let the pump rust than clean it and struggle less.

Once the water is poured, Sakura rushed back to the larger pot with her clothes, using a stick to bring them out and put them on the washing board. Protecting her hands with a slim layer of chakra just above her skin, she rubs the clothes to clean them of crusted dirt and blood. Her pants, _tabi_ and shirt are scrubbed quickly, soaked in colder water in a nearby tub and left hanging to dry. However, her cloak is a much more time-consuming task, leaving her sweaty and breathless by the time she's done and hanging it. Her armor she leaves for last, as she'll have to polish it after she washes it. One of the tubs is empty and surprisingly clean, so Sakura pours the water she'd been boiling in the smaller pot into it along with several pails of cold water from the pump. Checking the temperature, and simultaneously purifying the water, Sakura grins and slides in. Taking off her breast bands and underwear is probably a bad idea, but her internal clock assures her it's past midnight. If none of the staff have come out here now, it's unlikely they'll come until before sunrise. So she washes, using a smaller bar of soap on the more stubborn bloodstains. It's an olden-style of soap, made of real fat, but though it may cause a rash on her skin or allergic reaction, it's better than nothing. Though she's mission packed, she didn't pack soap or shampoo along with her clothes. It's likely she had been expecting to arrive somewhere she would have soap, which makes Sakura's mind wander as she tries to recall the moment before her arrival here.

Her memory is frustratingly blank, so she puts that off for another time she's not naked in a stranger's wash house. Done washing, she hops right onto the towels, silently apologizing to the Inn staff for undoing their hard work. She jumps to loosen the topmost one and uses it to dry. Thankfully, her healing has been successful, so she's good as new and rosy-cheeked from the warm bath. Her washed underwear and breast bands she tosses onto the hanging line where the rest of her things are, and bunny-jumps into her boots by the tub. Walking around naked is something she's been trained to do in absolute comfort, but it's not very nice to know that anyone could walk in on her and she'd have to _shunshin_ and hang from the ceiling in her birthday suit. Rummaging in her pack (she really needs to sit down and look through the contents properly), she finds a few more sets of clean underwear, and one more set of clean clothes, the exact same one she's left drying behind her, sans cloak. Donning her panties, spare breast band, black _tabi_ , shirt and pants, Sakura finally feels a bit safer. She tucks her pants into her boots, and her shirt into her pants. Rolling her shoulders, she sets out to empty the tub she used to wash, pouring it straight into the half-open tubes that lead out of the building. Sakura sincerely hopes they're drains and not meant for something else.

Her clothes won't dry by the time she has to evacuate the premises so the staff won't notice her, but she dearly needs the hot water and flames to clean her armor. In her pack, she finds a bottle of rust solvent, oil and a scour pad, which she carries to maintain both her kunai, shuriken and armor. Tenten had taught her that trick years ago, and the medic in her enjoys keeping her weapons squeaky clean. (Naruto once teased her for being indirectly responsible for keeping the enemy free of tetanus and lowering their medical costs. His answering yelp to her punch had been extremely satisfying.) Using a rag hung from the walls, she scrubs at her chest armor and gauntlets, rubbing off the dirt, dried blood and the hints of rust in hidden corners. The solvent she pours on delicately, using only a few drops, which she spreads then scrubs like mad. Oiling the rag with only a little bit of guilt for the Inn staff, Sakura proceeds to oil her armor, leaving it with a nice shine to the moonlight filtering in from the windows.

By the time she's done, her armor is gunk free and neat. As the inside of her armor is lined with special paint to keep it free of rust, she merely wipes it down and dons it all, strapping it carefully over her chest and arms. She's taken to wearing it since the wars began with Akatsuki, though Kakashi always laughed that she wore an incomplete ANBU uniform. Thoughts of her mentor leave her homesick for a brief moment before she rouses herself, setting the entire wash house to rights. She puts the towel and rag she used in with the rest of the white cloths still being boiled, hoping the staff won't notice they're not where they were before. Her wet clothes she dries with a low-level jutsu taught in the hospital to young genin for those long camping missions. She takes a moment to inspect the gashes and tears in the clothes, a few of them wide and long enough for her to put several fingers through them. With a click of her tongue, she brings out a sewing kit and quickly mends the largest ones. The horrid gash on the shoulder of her shirt and cloak is the worst, but her experience in the field of medicine makes her a competent seamstress. It's different, sewing skin or cloth, but all genin were taught to take care of their belonging when out in the field. She double checks everything before she dons the cloak, picking up the rest of her clothes. Folding them neatly, she stores them back into her pack along with the tools she used to clean her armor. With an almost apologetic bow, she steals a few bars of soap and puts them into a plastic bag, since she has a feeling there won't be many Inns where the warrior is going.

Finally done, she takes one last look into the wash house, checking to make sure everything has been left as it was. But for the recently wetted tubes, missing towel and rag in the washing pot, everything else is as neat and tidy as before. Nodding, she presses up against the door to see if there is movement outside. She has not detected anyone walking into her genjutsu or in the vicinity of her sensor seal, so it's unlikely anyone is outside. She opens the door carefully, wincing at the horrifying creak, and slips out. She removes the sensor seal, erasing the mark her chakra had left upon the wood, and shuts the door. As she's barely spent less than three hours in the wash house, the night is still and hushed on the village. Even the Inn, rowdy at midnight, has grown quiet and cold now that the patrons are gone home or asleep. The doors are closed and only a few lights are on in the windows. She knows she's been lucky thus far that no one has noticed her genjutsu, so she doesn't test her luck. She makes it back to the other side of the Inn, dispelling it safely and dropping on the ground soundlessly. She darts to the tree where her shadow clone is perched, keeping out of sight of the windows and hiding in the shadows of the tree. Her shadow clone scurries toward her, and whispers in a tiny voice as it makes its report.

"The warrior is in the second floor, in the room facing the back. He saw me once, when I checked where he'd gone. He had a meal and went to sleep soon after he arrived, but he's been coming and going to his room since then. I think he means to stay a while, but he might be waiting for someone. He's been making enquiries in the common room and to the Innkeeper, and he's made rounds twice to check the perimeter in the village. He's back here, now, smoking in his room." The clone says faithfully, nodding its tiny rodent head. A window above her head is open, with light tendrils of smoke coming out. "I've kept out of sight, mostly. People from these parts don't seem to take kindly to squirrels. One lady threw a knife at me!"

Sakura twists her mouth thoughtfully and changes the henge to one of the birds she'd seen roosting on the roof of a building next door. She speaks softly, straight into the shadow clone's ear. "That should keep you safer, I guess. Your energy doesn't feel drained, so you'll have to stay here a bit longer. I need to prepare if I'm to keep tracking him and whoever he's waiting for."

The shadow clone, now a bird, nods in affirmative and alights on the branches above. It huddles close to the trunk of the tree to stay clear of the view from the window. If squirrels aren't welcome and people attack them on sight, the warrior won't think much of it if the one he saw earlier is gone. Still, it's best to err on the side of caution.

Sakura wonders perhaps if she should show herself, but nothing assures her that the dark warrior won't take flight the moment he realizes she's followed him here. She stays there, beneath the shadow of the tree, conflicted until she hears his window closing. If they can't communicate, she can't tell him she means no harm. Clicking her tongue, she heads back to the gate and out to the safety of the forest. She'll rest for now and start of her preparations tomorrow. Even if she can't speak to the warrior, she can keep track of him and keep him safe. Perhaps, if she saves him enough times, he'll realize she really comes in peace.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 6,630**

 **I was going to explore a bit more of Aragorn's activities this chapter, but I'll save it for the next one.**

 **Sakura is a citizen of Konoha, of course the woods love her. It's not just her bring used to plants being absurdly sentient (cue Zetsu); she is a Leaf ninja. I'm thinking of using Treebeard to explore that point a little more, but she's not entirely without friends in a strange land. (I've thought seriously about what would happen if other ninja came to LotR. Would Kisame be kissed by a shark? Would Jiraya find himself chased by toads? Would Gaara drown in some very sensual sand trying to get into his pants? I laughed myself sick, I did.)**

 **There are apparently two gates in Bree, the North-East gate, and the South-West gate. The East gate is very big, but the West gate is low enough that a human man, Harry the gatekeeper, can look over it to peer at four very unhappy hobbits. So, hypothetically, Sakura can jump over it (Aragorn did it). It pays to keep the book in my lap while I edit to make sure I write everything correctly. The description of the Prancing Pony is near-canon, for the sake of my perfectionist heart.**

 **Some anonymous reviewer laughingly wrote: "No."**

 **I laughingly deleted the review. You have no power here. (Insert meme of bewitched Théoden King.) I write this in case dear anon checks and is surprised their review is gone. The site didn't do it. I did. TEEHEE.**


	3. Men prepares, the Heavens execute

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: Filler chapter for important things, world building if you will. And a long A/N at the end… because an anonymous user made a valid point I had to address.**

 **I was truly blown away by the response to my story! Thank you all! I was going to be patient and post this once chapter three was done, but then went Amako-sama, tumblr user dimancheetoile, and she did an INCREDIBLE fanart. Go check it out, she frikken** _ **ROCKS**_ **! Baby's first fanart, oh my Lord. Thank HER for this update.**

 **I know Hiraishin can be applied through direct physical contact or tags, but Minato and Tobirama had deep wells of chakra. Sakura does not. As such, she has to rely on the seal in order to make the jump properly using the technique. She can't apply the seal directly on people, because she's not a Mary-Sue, she's a real character with limitations and strengths. As such, this chapter will dedicate a LOT of time to the seal and its preparation. Because I am a nerd and because Sakura is good at her job.**

 **You'll notice I love Tobirama a lot. Like, a LOT. He's my hero.**

 **I also go a bit into the lore of LotR, because Aragorn is trying to make sense of what he saw. I'm not going to give you a history lesson on the Gods and Spirits of LotR, you can research that yourself. I will, however, mention some of their most powerful entities. Feel free to check Silmarillion for any doubts you may have on them.**

 **Someone mentioned I don't have to talk so much about Aragorn's travel directions. As I'm basing myself mostly off the books (I have my copy as I type), I'm afraid it IS necessary. Tolkien wrote very realistically, and I want to honor the world he built. As such, you're stuck with directions and all my nonsense.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two  
** **Men prepares, the Heavens execute**

Sakura sits among the trees, already completely at home in these sentient woods. It's barely dawning, and Sakura's brimful of energy. She clocks in on her clone inside the village, concentrating as she can feel it moving. It has yet to leave the premises, so the pink haired med-nin relaxes, sighing and leaning against the bough at her back. The tree bends gently, cupping her body like a mother would a baby, and Sakura laughs. She may be lost and in a foreign land, but at least she's among friends. As she is comfortable, fed and energized, Sakura supposes she might as well start on the _Hiraishin_.

She takes off her cloak, settling it against her back as she removes the hair cover she'd used to sneak into the village. Though the trees keep her sufficiently covered from any onlookers, a splash of pink among the leaves is much more natural than the black of her clothes. To keep her hair out of her eyes, Sakura sweeps her headband over and above her brow, tying it securely. It's a long, arduous process, so she's glad the trees have taken a liking to her. Normally, working up on the treetops would be a precarious adventure in keeping her things from rolling away and falling to the ground. Putting everything away, she sits cross legged and cracks her knuckles, ready to begin.

From a pouch at her hip, she withdraws six kunai, followed by several blank tags she keeps in her pack. From a side compartment in her pack, she brings out delicate writing utensils, used for when she needs a seal or an exploding tag. The tree beneath her moves, delicately raising several branches to make a wider space for her to work. Smiling, Sakura pets it fondly, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. Sakura gently takes the ink board, dripping some water before rubbing the blue stick in smooth circles to prepare her ink. Once it's thick, Sakura puts the stick away to prep her brushes. She had studied the two designs by her Nidaime and Yondaime Hokage; in energy output and design, Senju Tobirama had the upper hand. As such, she'll use a thicker brush than usual in order to draw the Nidaime's simple yet elegant design. Though the Yondaime's sign is an exercise in calligraphy, Sakura is a medic and thus brutally pragmatic in her techniques. Plus, the Nidaime's design allows for a lower output of charka when activating, so it's much more useful for a woman of Sakura's chakra levels. Biting into her thumb, she lets the wound hover over the ink, letting exactly one drop fall into the ink. The wound heals instantaneously, without Sakura even thinking about it. With a steady hand, she dips the brush, swirling to make sure the consistency is perfect for the application of the technique. As her chakra glows hot in the special ink, it flares, and she grins. It's ready! So, with delicate strokes and precision, Sakura carefully draws the two circles and various lines that make up for the Hiraishin's activation symbol on each tag.

She lays out each tag as she completes it, letting them dry before she tries to put her chakra into the seals. If she activates the technique before the ink dries, the space-time warp would be inexact. She puts small stones over each tag, keeping them in place as she works on the next one. Finally completing all twelve, she uses the remaining ink to add another layer on the seal in her forehead. Concentrating, she can feel the ink set in, drawing a portion of her charka. Once done using her tools, she gently washes the brush and ink board with water from her canteen, dries them gently with her cloak and stashes them in their proper places. Naruto might laugh at her for being so meticulous, but this is why she only needs one set of brushes a year while he uses almost two a week. Sakura smothers a smile at the memory of her teammate and focuses on the papers before her. With a nod, she places two hands over the first completed tag, creating a line between herself and the ink. With lightning fast hand signals, as taught by her shishou, Sakura grits her teeth and gasps as the seal glows strong and fierce. It winks out, ready, and Sakura breathes deeply. Already she's sweating, and she still has eleven more to go.

She pockets the first and moves onto the second tag, repeating the process all over again. She manages to finish the first six in quick succession, feeling a bit dizzy at the large usage of her reserves. Deciding that six is all she can do without rest and food for the moment, she gives the activation a rest and focuses instead of prepping her kunai with the tags. From the same compartment she keeps her ink, she takes out a set of special glue and brushes specifically for the tags. The glue is easy to use and it takes her no time at all to dip the brush in water, then glue, then proceed to spread it over the back of all six recently activated tags. She blows on the first tag, dashing a bit of chakra to activate the glue, then wraps it carefully around the handle of her kunai. If she allows for a single crease to mess up the design, the jutsu will not work. With a surgeon's care, she spreads all six tags on each kunai's hilt, managing for all of them to wind up perfectly spread and even.

Sakura sighs, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. So far, so good! As the glue won't behave as an adhesive until she activates it with her chakra, she stares at the remaining six tags in thought. If she smears it now, the activation of the glue might leech from the charka she attaches to the seal, so she decides instead to forgo the glue for the last six. She gently cleans the glue from the brush and stashes it in her pack, stretching her back.

The sun has climbed to mid-morning, making Sakura blink owlishly in the light. She's glad for the trees' protection, because without it, she'd have been a sitting duck during the entire process. As activating a seal consumes almost 90 percent of her attention, any enemy could have come up to her then. However, as it is, only civilians have been merrily passing by since the day dawned, leaving Sakura in relative peace. She checks on her clone again, finding it still and totally relaxed in the village. She takes a sip from her canteen, wondering if she ought to explore the town herself during the day. It's probably not the best idea she could come up with, but she's in serious need of a decent meal. Surviving on mission rations and protein bars could only get her so far. Still, she supposes that whatever money she has is perfectly useless in this country. Supposing she could even sell anything she has on her person, she doubts she can even communicate her needs to the merchants of the village. It would be preferable to hunt for some food in the forest, though she'll have to cook her meal away from the trees. The greenery has done nothing but take care of her since she'd arrived, she wouldn't disrespect them lighting a fire in their midst.

She busies herself putting everything away in their respective pouches and bags, taking care to make sure the tags are in an easily accessible spot in case of emergencies. Should it come up, she could still activate two more tags before truly feeling depleted, but only if it's necessary. Shouldering her pack and cloak, she pats the trees around her, asking for permission to move through. They open up, allowing for room without revealing her to the road in the south. She grins, sending a small amount of chakra into the leafy trees, making them shake as they suddenly find themselves with enough energy to sprout additional branches and leaves. She takes off to the sound of the shaking foliage, almost as though the forest itself is singing. She keeps to the tree tops and moves fast, keeping an attentive eye to the ground below. Before long, she runs into a small herd of boars, smelling them almost a mile before she can see them. Sakura keeps downwind of the herd, slowing to inspect the specimens below. They're larger than she's used to, with big tusks, and most of them have cleverly hidden among the dense bushes and undergrowth. She takes out a kunai, preparing for a killing blow. If it's this big, it'll take a strong swing for her to properly get to its artery and give it a quick death. She'll also have to escape quickly, to avoid being disemboweled by a nearby boar.

She pools chakra to her feet and _shunshins_ right beside the biggest female she could find without an offspring. The boar barely has time to react to her sudden appearance before she's cut into it, wrapping her arms around the animal and jumping clear of the rest of the herd. Already they're panicking, running frenetically into bushes and away from this ghostly predator who appeared and killed one of their own. The boar in her grip is so frightened and stunned, it bleeds out before it can process pain, slumping in her grip. None of the males of the herd challenge her for her kill, as they have young in their group and prefer to protect them than face this hunter. When Sakura gently lays the boar down, she notices a stray root tangled in its back hooves, leading straight to one of the smaller bushes close by. Sakura smiles and gently unwinds the root, pushing a bit of healing chakra as it withdraws. The root seems to wiggle in thanks before sinking back into the ground and disappearing from view.

She eyes the body at her feet clinically, supposing she'll have to skin and thoroughly cook the meat so it won't make her sick. It hasn't bled out completely, but the sanguine river from it's neck is seeping into the ground beneath. Almost as though the roots of the trees around her are greedily drinking the blood. Sakura shivers as she shoulders the boar, ready to take it somewhere she can properly skin, quarter and cook. Not even an hour has passed since she left off activating the tags, so she'll have to go somewhere she'll be out of view from the road to the south, yet far enough so she won't insult the woods. She turns south-west, toward the place the warrior had originally found the road. To the east of there, there had been a wide plane she could perhaps take advantage of to eat without disturbing this wonderful yet frightening forest. It took about thirty minutes of straight sprinting at the treetops to reach the place she remembered the warrior exited the trees. Scanning the road, she notes the midday sun discouraged travelers from staying long on the road. In the protective copse of trees, Sakura had barely felt the heat. Now, reaching the end of the wide forest, the boiling heat could be felt. Obviously, the day had started hot from early morning, as even the Earth itself seemed to be sizzling. There is a front of clouds coming in from the north, but at least three hours away and it won't serve as cover for now. Blinking, Sakura drops to the ground and crouches to pick up a few of the wide branches dropped from the canopy above. She pats the surrounding trees in thanks for their fallen limbs, and races out to the field on the other side of the road. She only runs for about a mile and a half, enough to be out of view from the road, but not so much she won't lose sight of the familiar tree-line she's grown comfortable in. She scans the plain a second time, making sure there is no living thing around her. Though the lively feeling she gets from the forest is missing, there is a resounding hum from the ground beneath her. Still, she can see nor smell any human or animal around her, though she spots deer tracks in the grass. To be safe, she checks on her clone once more, finding it moving again, but only in the village.

Sakura feels the dizziness from earlier set in again, so she drops her kill and begins to set up a smokeless fire. She encloses the area around her little teepee of branches with stones to avoid having the flames spread into the surrounding grass. Some of the thicker branches she keeps, to spear the meat once it has been cut from the main body. She throws the edges of her cloak over her shoulders, exposing her arms so she can work unhindered by the material. Using a few blades of dry grass, she snaps her finger, super charging them with chakra and creating a spark. The beginning flares of a flame starts to burn, consuming the grass greedily. She could have used a fire jutsu, but it would be overkill and possibly set fire to the surrounding grass. Sakura drops the lit blades under the teepee, blowing gently so the fire will catch onto the branches. As they're rather dry, the flames begin to crackly merrily on the wood, over which Sakura quickly performs a small jutsu so the smoke will dissipate quickly into the air around it and remain untraceable.

She then turns her attention to the carcass she'd laid down on the ground, inspecting it. Quickly deciding the legs are her best bet, she carves both fore and hind legs free from the main body with a shark kunai. The skin peels off easily, almost like a pillow case, after she makes a single incision along the length of the leg. She folds that gently, so she can later place it over the fire and stifle the flames. She sticks both legs with the thicker branches and buries the stick slightly in the ground, so it would lean into the flames without burning the meat. She gently fans the flames and adds more substantial branches, proud when they leap and burn merrily with the added wood. With those cooking, she then takes the main body and carves the flank from the face and spine, carving around the ribs and peeling it cleanly so only the bones are left. This meat she'll dry and salt, preserving it for later consumption. In order to do so, she peels the skin off before using it to rest her meat without contaminating it with dirt. With a satisfactory space to work with, Sakura begins shearing the left side of the meat into thinner strips, gently sprinkling salt and nitrate from a spice pouch she keeps in her pack and leaving them in the sun to dry. The weather today is perfect for curing meat, though she's thinking of smoking it once she's done with her meal. With the unfamiliar pathogens she's about to ingest, Sakura is unsure of only salting the meat would be enough for her to stomach it. Plus, as she doesn't have several days' worth of time to curate properly, smoking it would speed up the process. The right hunk of meat from the flank she spears and places over the fire, to cook for dinner. The head and intestines she leaves for scavengers and other animals, momentarily abandoning her fire to drop off the meat in the shade of the trees to the north. The head vanishes among the tree roots, though the intestines are left exposed for any animal to find. Nodding, Sakura heads back, pleased her small encampment remains undisturbed. By now, there is not a soul on the road, as the sun has risen fully and is beating down punishingly over all exposed places.

Though Konoha is generally cool all year round, it's close enough to Suna's harsh desert climate that a warm summer day is positively stifling. As such, the mild heat of what she supposes to be barely twenty-seven degrees Celsius is a picnic. Once the forelegs, being thinner, are well-done, she removes them from the fire. The first bite is too hot, but Sakura's thankful to have her first hot meal in more than two days. She scratches at her face as she eats, noting the dry flakes of blood that fall. The mess of her kill is probably spread all over her face, chest and arms; but it's not like she's trying to be presentable. It would probably be good to slip into the village that night for another bath. As long as she has access to clean water, she'd better take advantage of it. As she munches on the meat, putting aside the first bones, she thinks about sealing a good amount of clean water in a scroll, just in case. As she hasn't eaten since dawn, she's ravenous. Sakura easily devours all four legs, cleanly picking every ounce of meat from the bones. She reaches for the flank she'd left over the flames but pulls back. She can't eat too much, or else her metabolism will slow down, and her chakra won't recuperate as quickly. Instead, she packs it up, wrapping it in paper and stuffing it in her backpack.

To make up for lost time, Sakura gently lowers the flame until it's just embers, smoking profusely. Laying branches evenly over the smoke, using the stones to keep them above and level, Sakura then spreads the meat she'd salted over the branches. Using the skin, she makes a sort of cover by tying it together with sticks; thus, the smoke would be contained. Checking the sky, she notes the position of the sun as only two hours past midday. Dusting herself, she spreads a genjutsu over the small site. The smoking would take at least a few hours, and she decides to nap while she waits for her body to metabolize the food and regain enough energy to finish the seals. Napping in the open is so against her better nature as a ninja, Sakura can't help but seek the cover of the trees and abandon her site. Everything was settled in a way the wind wouldn't blow it away, and the genjutsu would ensure no human or animal would disturb it. Perhaps she's getting too comfortable in the woods, but even if she loses the meat, it wouldn't be a huge loss. She has enough for dinner, and if need be, she could always hunt again. The herd of boars would be enough to keep her fed for a few weeks, and the deer tracks would perhaps lead her to bigger game. If necessary, she could always take shots at the squirrels and eat those. She doesn't want to put those species in any danger; so, she'll analyze their populations and plan accordingly.

Sakura pulls up her hood, cloaking her face once she's able to see the bend of the beaten path ahead. She reaches the southern edge of the woods and walks naturally into them, so not to alarm the folks now travelling on the road again. They still watch her warily, distrustful of a stranger dressed so poignantly in black. One of them, oddly child-sized, seems to curiously follow her all the way to the edge of the wood, standing tip-toe to watch her blend into the darkness of the forest. Sakura nervously looks back before ducking into the shadow of a tree and scaling it. She doesn't want anyone to get a good look at her face, in case the report gets back to the warrior and spooks him into flight. The child-sized creature only goes a few more yards into the forest before turning back, hollering something to his companions. Sakura curses softly under her breath, wishing she at least could understand some of the words they used. Sighing, she settles into the tree tops, content as the foliage arranges itself comfortably around her. Checking one last time on her clone, she finally falls into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Aragorn sits in the barroom, observing the folk around him beneath the shadow of his hood. None of the hobbits he sees are strangers to Bree, as Shire-folk have long stopped being so social with the Bree-landers. He exhales, smoking from his pipe as he rests from the good meal the innkeeper had served him. No matter what anyone would say, the Prancing Pony had among the finest ale and food in Bree. He's been making his rounds around the village since last night, making sure to check on the blind spots and the hills behind the village to ensure there are no spies or Ring Wraiths keeping watch over the tiny hamlet. As it is, it's been generally uneventful. Even last night, while he'd been smoking in his room, he'd seen and heard nothing out of the ordinary. It's beginning to get on his nerves. The God or Spirit from the Chetwood Forest probably hasn't followed him here, but it's been present on his mind since he'd run into it. The idea that there could be more things like it out there makes Aragorn shudder, despite his battle experience against large and magical beings. Hell's teeth, even facing something as powerful as Gandalf hadn't frightened him as much as watching what amounted to a short, lithe woman break a man's neck while holding him in midair.

He sucks almost petulantly at his pipe, holding the smoke as he continues to think. It probably wasn't working for the Enemy, as it had protected him from scavengers, but he can't say it's definitely friendly toward him or his quest. Sure, his patrols of Bree had more to do with his inspection of the grounds in search for the wayward hobbits Gandalf had asked him to protect, but he can't help searching for a telltale flash of pink. If anything, Aragorn's ashamed to admit he's insanely curious. Where did it come from? How is it so strong? Is it of a warrior-people? Would it ally itself with them? He's so focused on his own thoughts, he almost misses the conversation going on two tables away, as a few excitable hobbits talk loudly over their afternoon tea.

"It was amazing, he came out of nowhere!" one of the hobbits exclaims, waving his arms akimbo. All but his two traveling companions are staring at him in disbelief. "He was dressed entirely in black, though the sun was blazin'!" The rest of the hobbits gathered at the table shake their heads. Though it's the nature of a Bree-lander to take to the Road whenever it suits them to visit their surrounding families, to have a young one coming back with tall-tales is unacceptable. They heckle the youngster until he settles down, pouting as he takes a bite out of a biscuit.

Another hobbit picks up the tale, thought with remarkably less enthusiasm than his younger counterpart. "He was, we didn't even see his face. Killer's grace, you know, I've seen it in them Rangers." There is a certain type of authority in this hobbits voice, as he sat there nursing his ale while the rest daintily drank tea. "Only ones who dress in black around these parts."

It's not rare to spot a Ranger around Bree or the Shire. They've been an almost permanent, yet nomadic fixture around these parts since about twenty years ago. If anything, the Bree-landers have grown used to their sporadic comings and goings, respecting these quiet, but resourceful folk who keep them safe from all manner of threats. Still, meeting a Ranger is considered juicy gossip, as it often portends the arrival of something interesting. As such, even a Ranger as well known as Strider is put under the microscope during his travels among the jovial, nosy people of Bree. Aragorn perks up, recalling that the Spirit had worn black almost entirely. It could be possible that they had spotted a Ranger, however, his people had been asked to patrol the forests, not the roads. If these hobbits saw it, they had probably been travelling on a beaten path, at the very least. Rangers don't travel on them unless they cannot help it.

"He just vanished into the forest, I saw it!" The youngest pipes up again, even when his elder glares at him to remain silent. "I followed it, see, but I couldn't find it! I was so surprised, I thought my heart would burst!" At this, Aragorn has heard his fill. If they saw it vanish, then it's likely the creature. He empties his pipe and stands, looming over the hobbits as they jump when the party finally spots him. The youngest jabs at the hobbit drinking ale lazily, as though trying to prove a point in his story.

"Excuse me," Aragorn cuts in politely, dipping his head in greeting. The hobbits stare at him mistrustfully, but don't ignore him. He's another opportunity for them to tell a tale, and every hobbit is an avid story-teller. "Would you perhaps be able to tell me if this stranger wore armor?"

The youngest opens his mouth, only to be shushed by his elder. "What's it to you, Strider?"

"Only a passing curiosity," Aragorn replies smoothly, raising his hand to gesture the innkeeper. Butterbur nods and returns promptly with another set of biscuits, a fresh pot of tea and another pint of ale. When the hobbit whets his throat with the new beverage, he seems much more complacent. Not even hobbits were above a bribe. "Where did you see him? Was the stranger wearing armor?"

"I don't know," the older hobbit replies, staring at the bottom of his pint and looking up at Strider. Aragorn wonders if this hobbit plans to drink him dry.

The youngster becomes his saving grace. "He was!" he chirps, cheerfully refilling his tea despite his elder's scathing glare. "Or, well, I think he was. There was something bright under his cloak, around his chest, I think. Would that be armor?" The young hobbit looks up at him in fascination. Boy, will he have a story for his friends! Not just one Ranger, but even the famous Strider! He's glad he agreed to visit his relatives at Budgeford, despite the long walk to the Shire.

"It would be, indeed, young hobbit," Aragorn remarks, stepping back. He waits for the answer to his second question, which makes the young hobbit stare at him for a moment before he recalls himself.

"We saw him crossing the Greenway, a few miles north of the gates of Bree," The young hobbit informs him, clearly ignoring the pinch from the other hobbits trying to keep him quiet. "He went from the plains into the forest, didn't stop even when I hailed him."

Aragorn smiles behind his hood, bowing gratefully. "You have my thanks."

He leaves the inn behind after dropping some coins for his dinner and the added cost to the hobbits' afternoon tea. He doesn't notice when Nob cheerfully thanks him, fully embroiled in his thoughts. The creature had left the forest, clearly, as they had seen it emerge from the plains. Obviously, it was not contained to a single area, as Spirits are wont to do. Gods have no such parameters, so perhaps he really did awaken a God. The _Ainur_ were prohibited from denying the children of _Ilúvatar_ their free will or even killing them, so he is clearly not dealing with one of those powerful Spirits. Perhaps _Morg_ -…

Aragorn instantly cuts off that thought, unwilling to even name the powerful entity that had once thrown his world into chaos and caused the terrible shadow of the Enemy. It would be unlikely for that being to be in Middle Earth at all, considering he ought to be chained in the Void. Gandalf had not hinted at the change of the powers that be, so it cannot be him. He bites his tongue as he strides out into the darkening night, eyes seeking every shadow for a glimpse of pale skin, green eyes and pink hair. He cannot feel that same sensation he'd felt when facing the creature in the forest, but he cannot help the paranoia bubbling beneath his skin like a disease. Evidently, it's still out there. If he cannot speak to it, at the very least he can make himself understood. He grasps the hilt of his sword tightly. Though the Elven blade may be broken, it's a blade forged specifically for the defeat of rising darkness. He hides from the villagers, to avoid causing a commotion with his heightened nerves. He evades Harry easily, jumping out into the darkness beyond. The moon is waning, casting little light on the endless plains and the dark forest. He's no stranger to travelling at night, but he doesn't want to find himself stuck in the Chetwood if he can avoid it. So, he takes to the plains, stalking slowly and silently along the grass, tracking the subtle passing of animals.

It takes him almost an hour to find the traces of something in the grass, and even then, he nearly misses it. Hidden among the grass, there's the barest trace of ash. He stoops, dipping probing fingers into the fine ash. He can quickly tell it was wood, and from the scent of fat, something must have been cooked here. The ash somehow has a strong smell of smoke, more concentrated than usual. He doesn't bother to taste it, instead focusing on the area around the fire. To his surprise, it's clearly undisturbed. If he hadn't found that small pocket of ash, he wouldn't have been able to discern that anyone had even been here before in the past few years, at the very least. Whomever had lit that fire had taken great care to avoid disturbing the surrounding foliage, clearly having some experience in evasive maneuvers. Not even the faintest track can be found, nearly fooling Aragorn into believing this spread of ash could have come from somewhere else. However, a secondary finding brings everything into focus as he spots a tiny fragment of a branch with several leaves, discarded some yards from the spot he found the ash. He picks it up, inspecting the branch and leaf, clearly identifying the downy birch from the Chetwood to the north-west. Aragorn smiles, tucking the branch carefully into his shirt, to inspect it in a better light. Not even the wind would carry a healthy branch a mile and a half on a day like today, where the wind had hardly blown with strength. The leaf is clearly young and fresh, having been taken through the plains by other means.

He returns to Bree as quickly as possible, not wanting to be caught out in the open by the creature. His mind is already racing at the implications of everything he's just learned. Undoubtedly, it's smart; it might not have known he'd track it, but it had taken precautions. Unless it had been cooking something for the sake of pure torture, the creature clearly requires sustenance. Perhaps he'd made a mistake in thinking the hare he'd caught had been stolen by wolves. Additionally, it had not taken means to hide from the travelers on the road when it had returned to the forest. The hobbit said he'd chased it into the forest, and it hadn't acted in a hostile manner. A much more damning point is the fact that it had not vanished until it had reached the shadows of the forest. It's likely it can only disappear when surrounded by woods. It could simply be a trick, like what Elves do in order to avoid being sighted by other creatures in Lothlórien.

It may not be a God after all.

Just to be careful, he does one more round of the roads that lead to Bree, listening carefully in case there may be a hobbit and a wizard chatting as they walk. Though the Ring Wraiths fare better under cover of darkness, Gandalf would use it against the lesser spies of the Enemy. He checks one more time, before finally vaulting over the gate nimbly. Harry would be horrified to know how many times Strider crosses the gate without his knowledge. As he hurries toward the Inn, eager to double-check the branch he found in better lighting, he fails to spot the brief flash of black over the waning moon as a dark bird keeps track of him from above.

* * *

Movement is what shakes Sakura out of her stupor from the seals, even as she grunts and stubbornly sets the last one with the precise amount of chakra for the technique. Her midday meal and nap give her a new well of energy to work from, but even such taxing amount of work as completing twelve Hiraishin seals is stressful for a field medic like Sakura. Still, she packs up every single tag, forgoing the glue until she can investigate what has caused her concentration to waver. With some alarm, she realizes that her clone is flying low among the plains to the south, probably following the warrior. With a grimace, she supposes that it would have been obvious for the people of such a small village to spread the word of her appearance like wildfire. From what she saw, it's a relatively closed community, so any new people or faces would incite an extraordinary amount of curiosity from its inhabitants. _Of course_ the warrior had already gotten wind and gone to investigate the rumors. She really can't catch a break, can she?

She sighs, sweeping her hair back under the hair cover and pulling up her hood. She should check in on him, to see if he's faring well. She pauses for a moment, looking down at her stained armor and arm guards. Well, she might as well follow him to the village and have a bath. She also needs more water, so she _must_ follow him. With a parting pat to the tree that had been her bed and work table for the past eight hours, she sets off, staying low and downwind of where she can feel her clone. Her blood runs cold when she notes he's close to her midday campsite, possibly looking for and finding traces of her stay there. She's glad she went to retrieve her meat earlier that day; before nightfall. It had been perfectly cooked by the time she woke up, so she'd been able to dedicate some time to the removal of the traces of her passage. She worries that perhaps she didn't hide them so well. If he's a skilled tracker, he probably found some ashes she forgot to spread properly. As the boar had been quite fat, a lot of it had bled down onto the ashes below, so spreading them had been difficult.

Finding the warrior isn't too hard, he's tall, so he stands out like a sore thumb over the empty plain. It takes some effort for Sakura not to flee, as she still isn't sure what he's capable of. Though his chakra isn't refined, he had found her without much trouble when she'd stalked his campsite. She curses, noting with even greater alarm that he isn't just close to it, he's e _xactly_ at the campsite. She ducks, using the shadows offered by the moon to remain hidden in plain sight. Crawling on all fours, she closes in on him to watch him as he crouches to inspect the ground below. When he pokes at it, she almost slaps herself as she sees the ash covering his finger as he brings it close to his face to smell. Though the low lighting and her dark clothes give her the perfect cover, this warrior has shown himself to be a competent tracker. Should the wind change, he'll undoubtedly pick up on her scent. She is, after all, covered in dry blood. Silently swearing enough profanities to make a sailor blush, Sakura backs away slowly, unwilling to be spotted. Springing back, she covers enough ground that she feels more comfortable standing. It isn't until he trudges over to where she'd been crawling and picks up a piece of foliage that Sakura pales.

It had probably been on her clothes just now, after cuddling into the tree for so long. In coming here and spying on him, she'd given him one more clue to her visit to this area.

It makes her want to scream.

When he finally hurries back to the village, Sakura stays down, grumbling into the soil about idiot girls who cannot do anything right. She waits for roughly thirty minutes before scanning her surroundings and standing up. Her clone's nearly at the village gates, so the warrior is probably there already. Sakura decides to go ahead with her original plan to wash and fetch some water. She might have to wait a while in the forest until she's certain he's settled to avoid surprised. She's messed up enough times that she can almost hear Kakashi's admonishing tone. If her genin sensei had seen her performance today, he'd strap her to a chair and force-feed her ramen until she saw the error of her ways. Torn between homesickness and the relief her sensei was not here to see it, Sakura trudges into the forest. This time, of course, she takes care not to leave obvious tracks for anyone to follow. There _is_ a silver lining, though.

The warrior is clearly very competent in his field. Sakura smiles to herself, settling back comfortably against her new chosen tree to wait him out. At least she isn't setting her sights on any old shmuck.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 6,330**

 **Ah, I mentioned Bree-landers sells horses in the last chapter. They don't, Sakura only assumes they do because of the Prancing Pony's large stables. Sakura's point of view isn't entirely correct, as she's just trying to make sense of her surroundings. Just like how Aragorn thinks that Sakura can only vanish if she's in the forest. They're working with what they have, like real people. Or, at least, I hope to give that impression. It wouldn't do for Aragorn to go all narrator-know-it-all when he doesn't. Same with Sakura.**

 **For those of you who aren't chefs, salting and smoking a meat can be done in combination, specifically to aid in keeping bacteria and pathogens from contaminating meat and preserving it. People who hunt for a living often do one or both so the meat they hunt won't go to waste.**

 **I have a habit of skipping details, so this story is taking a lot of my brain power.**

 **The hobbits were meant to arrive this chapter, but I got carried away world-building. Well, here's to a believable heroine, am I right?**

 **Also, for the sake of my perfectionist heart, Aragorn's boots had mud when he and Frodo first met. Odd, that, don't you think? Worse, Aragorn even says he came to Bree AFTER the hobbits did. (Seconded by him apparently climbing the gate after they come in.) But it's odd, isn't it? As a Ranger, Bree-landers respect him and fear him… why did he sneak in? Harry would have let him pass, regardless of the hour. The man's been there for years, defending the Shire with the rest of the Rangers at Gandalf's request. I'd wager he went out to find the hobbits then snuck back in so no one would remark on his odd comings and goings… or link them to the hobbits. Clever Aragorn. (Little note, the moment Bilbo leaves the Ring to Frodo and when Frodo finally sets out for his adventure… that takes about twenty years. Gandalf asks Aragorn to care for the Shire with the Dúnedain, so the Rangers pretty much patrol the Bree-lands and the Shire long before the adventure even begins.)**

Some anonymous reviewer made a very, very valid point on the _Hiraishin_. It's not only a forbidden technique, it also requires a massive chakra output and I can't lump together summoning and Fuinjutsu (as it is, the Hiraishin is described as a bit of both… so what can I do about it?). And should Fuinjutsu be so easy to use, then Jiraya and Kakashi ought to know medical jutsu, right? The answer to that, is NO. Nidaime's techniques were sealed, true, but the Nidaime recorded all of them in a scroll he kept safe in Hokage tower; one Naruto very specifically _STEALS_ from the get-go of the series. The Shadow Clone is one such secret technique Tobirama invented then kept sealed for safety. Danzo or anyone else could get their hands on it by stealing and committing treason, but Danzo's smarter than that. Why would he need _Hiraishin_ when he has _shunshin?_ Especially if stealing it would only mark him an enemy of the state? Meanwhile, Sakura doesn't just have Minato's own son on her team, but she worked as the Hokage's apprentice. The one Hokage who has familial rights over all of Nidaime's things. If Sakura wanted to learn Hiraishin, Tsunade would go "oh, there's a scroll over there, knock yourself out." It would have been kind of illegal, but Tsunade doesn't give a shit (the woman drinks on business hours, don't tell me she's a stickler for rules).

As for Fuinjutsu and medical jutsu, they're used together to improve the strength of medical jutsu and tie a patient's life to the hospital staff. Most of those seals are in specific rooms, but medical personnel can carry such scrolls for emergency field surgery. Kakashi could very well copy all of Sakura's arsenal, but he isn't able to use her medical expertise. Why? He knows nothing of the human body or the perfect chakra equations to create a medical technique. Medics are taught Fuinjutsu as part of their training. Even ANBU and jounin have Fuinjutsu training, considering they can seal human bodies in scrolls. It's not as rare as they make is sound, to be honest. They're just not experts, like Kakashi or Jiraya. Their expertise could improve the seals medics use, but not much else.

Also, Sakura is not a "powerful" shinobi. Though it's not specifically stated outright, most of us assume Sakura has a limited chakra supply. Not that she has a lesser supply, but she runs out of juice faster than those around her. If anything, I should think it's mostly because she spends the series as a fourteen-year-old surrounded by powerhouses (i.e. Naruto). As an adult, as depicted here, Sakura's chakra wells are much deeper and more developed. She's not an infinite well of energy, so she can't use the Hiraishin willy-nilly. She has to prepare, as seen above. Unlike Tobirama or Minato, who can use it fluidly in battle, Sakura must have the seals active and on hand. She can't quite use them like her Hokage could, but she can make use of Hiraishin for some good ol' stalking. Taking all of the above into account, I hope perhaps I have explained myself a little better. Sakura has access to the technique, the smarts to learn it and apply it despite her limitations. She can't quite use it like Minato or Tobirama, but she can certainly employ such a powerful technique.


	4. Bomb

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: Now we're getting to the good stuff.**

 **Remember that Hiraishin was developed by Nidaime Hokage, who was a famed sensor-type ninja. As such, Hiraishin doesn't** _ **just**_ **work as a way to travel through space and time. You can read up on the technique in the official material.**

 **I do a bit of jumping about more in this chapter, as per my usual custum. Apologies for those of you that are surprised by my sudden skips; those of you who know me... well, you're used to it.**

 **A very smart reviewer brought up the "hiccup" in my saying Aragorn has chakra. I do have a reason for it, but my only explanation for now is that Sakura's trying to describe** _ **his**_ **energy in** _ **her**_ **words (much like how Aragorn's first brush with a ninja's chakra is compared to the feelings one gets when among Elves). I don't plan to brush that plot point under the rug, believe me. If I'm bringing up and solving the problem of different languages to the nth degree, you better believe I'll stir the chakra-plot-point to the max.**

 **Someone asked me in Aragorn knows Sakura's a girl. He's been constantly referring to her as "it", since he doesn't know who or what she is. You'll see what he chooses to do about it in this chapter.**

 **I'll avoid directly referencing anything in the books or films. You're a fan, you know what happens. I don't need to re-tell it unless necessary. As such, I'm skipping ahead on things we don't need to dwell on, like the endless days of walking. Just… walking.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three  
** **Bomb**

It doesn't take long for Sakura to make use of the wash house a second time. The security of this small village is laughable, to the point that Sakura no longer feels the need to use genjutsu to keep herself from being spotted. For the most part, the people can't even see her when she's running quickly with chakra augmentation, much less when she performs _shunshin_. As such, she's able to sneak in without a high chakra output. Already, she's even designed a common storage seal to keep purified water in a scroll for future travels. With a stash of protein bars, salted meat, water and Hiraishin seals, Sakura finally feels ready to face the longer travels and stalking of her chosen target. She stands beneath his window, silently considering. Right now, he's indoors, probably relaxing. Her clone has already given her a brief rundown of his activities during the day. "It's not much different from yesterday," the clone had whispered softly, "He did go out today near where you were, and he seemed excited to find traces of your passage. He put away that branch he stole from the field in his pack. Other than that, he's only been making rounds of the village."

Sakura sighs, thinking. It would be best if she could sneak one of the seal onto his pack, weapons or clothes. If permanently placed, the paper seal would dissolve and leave an unmovable mark. Though the rest of the villagers of this place seem completely unable to sense her, the warrior had shown an increased sensitivity to her presence. Considering his incredible capacity to track, perhaps he's naturally a sensor-type. Should anyone deign to train him, he could become a formidable enemy to any ninja in the five nations. He can't avoid someone with her skillset, but he's capable enough to hide his tracks and make it difficult for her. Plus, as she can't communicate with him, she can't travel in full view of him without making him hostile.

She can feel him inside from here, his chakra completely relaxed. If he should be asleep, she could sneak in and plant the seal on his pack. Sakura has been stifling her chakra since a mile out, so he should have no reason to sense her beyond normal human means. Planting a genjutsu in his room would be a piece of cake, and once planting the seal, he can't escape her. Deciding perhaps his black cloak will hide her seal and considering her clone had seen him hang it by the door to his room, it might be her best bet. However, a piece of clothing can be easily discarded. Maybe she ought to apply it directly onto him. Nodding, she decides. As the moon is only barely rising, it's dark enough that she can scale the building without being spotted. With a simple jump, she's at his window, glued to it via chakra. She flashes through the hand seals for the genjutsu, applying it to the room alongside a sleeping jutsu to keep him under control should he attempt to wake. The window is wide enough for her to fit through, though it's been locked. Using a senbon, Sakura promptly disengages the latch, and pries the two halves of the window wide open. She's inside in a second, oozing through the shadows to remain unseen by anyone peeking in from outside. Sakura gently closes the window; the temperature of the room is rather high, and should she leave the window open, it'll freshen enough to be noticeable. It's hot, but she'll have to bear it. Checking the door, she notes it's early enough that the patrons downstairs are rather rowdy. It's unlikely they'll disturb the warrior, but she keeps it in her line of sight. The genjutsu is placed directly on the warrior to keep him from detecting her presence, but she couldn't spend more chakra to expand to an outsider. After activating twelve _Hiraishin_ seals, her reserves have taken a hit. She barely has enough for a simple surgery, much less a large, detailed genjutsu.

He's lying on his back on the bed. He did remove his boots and his cloak, but he's wearing the rest of his clothes. She wonders if his belt doesn't bother him and if he even has a change of clothes. Perhaps pajamas don't exist in this strange land? For a moment, she pities him and whatever has him living a poor life like this. A man of his caliber ought to be in a much grander place, like a palace of sorts. Something about his visage is noble to her, like the cut of her Hokage on the mountain. Sakura shrugs, putting that fancy aside, before unceremoniously shoving him onto his side. The sleeping jutsu is of her own creation, targeting the brain directly; though she hadn't been sure it would work should the physiology of the warrior be different from hers, it seems she's lucked out. With his back now exposed, she takes a moment to untuck his shirt from his pants and roll it up. His skin is weathered and tan, and she blinks at the innumerable scars she finds. Some of them look quite nasty, from blunt blades or infected by disease. Sakura presumes that the medics of this land are rather hapless and without proper techniques. Judging from the infections she can see that once plagued this man, it's likely they don't have medicines, surgical gear or even methods of prevention. Sighing, Sakura takes out her seal, and puts it mid-back, between his shoulder blades. There, it should be invisible to him. The seal warms and lights up as it activates and the tag dissolves, leaving only the circular design on his skin.

Finished, Sakura gently lowers his shirt and tucks it into his pants discreetly. He's shown a remarkable eye for detail, so she can't just leave him like that and hope he won't notice her intrusion. She turns him gently onto his back once more, and debates whether or not to pull the covers onto him. In the end, she chooses not to, as he didn't have them on when she came in. There's a sudden loud noise from the room below and what seems to be a communal song being taken up by the rowdiest of patrons. In a second, Sakura's by the window, opening it soundlessly. Raising the latch and, using her chakra to form a string, she ties it around the latch. She steps outside and gently closes the window. She tugs at the string she made, forcing the latch to come down so the window will not seem tampered with. Dissolving her chakra, Sakura lifts the genjutsu and sleeping jutsu from the warrior and drops onto the ground below. Moonrise has come, so she must be mindful of prying eyes. Already, she can hear the warrior begin to awaken in his room, apparently roused by the noise. She exhales, nodding to her clone sitting in the tree, before making her way out of the village. She's clean, completely packed, and with the seal in place. Now, all she has to do is wait.

* * *

Aragorn jerks awake, surprised by the sudden intensity of the noise from the barroom. He groans, rubbing his forehead and muttering a few choice words under his breath. Trust the hobbits of this wretched hamlet to suddenly break into a lecherous song in the middle of the night. He listens for a moment, realizing it's not just hobbits. He can hear a party with a southern accent singing amid the merry hobbits, whom he vaguely recalls came in the night before on the Greenway. There's also the deep, booming voices of dwarves among those gathered, whom Aragorn can only assume just came in this evening. As he sits up, he uselessly tries to rub a warm spot on his back, heading to the window. He opens it, breathing deeply, and letting his body cool down. Considering how warm the day had been, he probably shouldn't have closed and locked the window. However, with the creature from the forest loose, he couldn't help but feel a bit more paranoid than usual. He looks out to the tree just outside his window and decides he might as well head out for a few rounds of the perimeter. He hoists his pack onto his shoulders and fetches his cloak from where it hangs. He decides to leave the window open for when he sneaks back in, and to cool the room down a bit as well. He's rather surprised he managed to get any sleep in such wretched conditions, but he's been active enough that his tiredness could be a factor.

With one last look at his room, he hops out to the tree, startling a bird into flight. It crows at him in reproach, almost sounding like words, and Aragorn politely holds both hands up in apology. The bird settles for flying away, swerving to find another comfortable place to rest.

He grunts as he climbs down, wishing dearly he could do as the creature did and simply hop down from such a high place without hurting himself. As he finally manages to land neatly on the ground, he takes off running, keeping to the shadows to avoid being watched. The good folk of Bree have been living under his protection for decades, but there are enough people persuaded by the power of the Enemy to note his comings and goings with suspicion. Those arrived from the south might just be among His spies. As such, he can't wander freely under the pretense of Ranger business. Especially if he should find and finally lead the hobbits Gandalf spoke of to safety. He's been waiting for nearly three days now, and it's starting to make him a bit nervous. Should the creature in the forest prove to be in the service of the Enemy, they'll have a big problem on their hands. As such, he sneaks over the gate, nimbly avoiding being spotted by Harry. He heads out, circling the different roads while slinking out of sight. Moonrise comes early at this time of year, and the fat, full moon casts a clear light. The roads are rather clear and empty, with scarcely any travelers on them. With the Black Riders galivanting about, the intelligent people of these parts have taken to a sort of early curfew. If business could not be conducted during daylight hours, it was not worth being conducted at all. Aragorn inspects the ground, sure that almost no hobbits have been around these parts recently. There was a light shower around noon, so the ground is rather fresh with mud. Aragorn steps lightly, doing his best to avoid the wet earth. Near the Greenway-crossing, he detects the scent of horse. Following his excellent senses, he steals into the darkness to remain undetected.

It doesn't take too long for him to find four little figures riding sturdy ponies in the dark, whispering amongst themselves. Aragorn sets upon them, keeping close enough to listen to their conversation. At the mention of the name 'Underhill', Aragorn blinks. Gandalf had informed him he'd told the little hobbit to go by an assumed name popular in Bree; it seems the hobbit had taken him by his word. The dark-haired hobbit was quickly whispering to his fellow hobbits to be sure they addressed him as such, and to be careful not to talk too much about themselves. Two of the hobbits were clearly not very interested in the conversation, while the fourth was nodding grimly.

Aragorn smiles to himself, following stealthily in the dark. It seems his companions have arrived. Gandalf is not among them, but the wizard had warned him he might not be.

* * *

The sense of dark, pervasive chakra awakens Sakura from a sleep so deep, she's got a kunai out before she's fully coherent. It takes her a moment to realize it's not a sense from something in her immediate area, but the expanded sensation from her connection to the _Hiraishin_. She'd been sleeping in the trees, held safely in their leafy canopy. She drops her pack among the treetops, winding a _Hiraishin_ kunai among the straps and begging the tree to keep it safe. With a hastily bitten off curse, Sakura rushes back to the village. The ominous chakra is not so close to the warrior that she can feel he is in any direct danger… but something about it rubs her the wrong way. She checks her reserves, assured that food and rest have restored her to full strength. With a grim set to her mouth, she _shunshins_ the rest of the way to the Inn she knew the warrior had been staying. She's standing before the Inn, a kunai in each hand, when she clocks the chakra of the warrior in his room. Her own, she keeps suppressed. This unknown enemy is beyond her comprehension. There's strange movement in one of the rooms built into the hills, and she can see the horses and ponies of the town have been spooked and sent running for the hills. She grits her teeth, counting at least three different foes. The warrior seems to have company. If he's being chased by these things, the least she can do is draw them away from him. Wrapping an exploding tag around one of her kunai, she lets it fly. The blossoming fireball comes with a wild variety of shrieks, and robed figures dart out of the tiny room in the hill like bats out of hell.

Sakura stands in the center of the wide road, facing three of the robed figures. She reaches for another kunai, eying their drawn swords uneasily. She wishes she had the sword Kakashi-sensei had gifted her when she made jounin. Instead, she stands her ground, gathering chakra.

* * *

Aragorn starts when the entire building shakes, the light of a fire briefly coloring the courtyard. He runs to the window, signaling for the hobbits to remain hidden. Only Samwise is awake, holding a frying pan like one would a sword. Aragorn allows for a brief smile at the stout hobbit but smothers it quickly. He peers out the window, pressing his body to the wall to look out into the street. There, standing like a ghost, is the creature of the forest. In the full light of the moon, with the black cloak drawn back over slim shoulders, Aragorn can no longer deny the feminine figure of the creature.

She stands, facing three of the Black Riders, two odd knives in each hand. She suddenly drops back onto her back leg, one knife raised toward the Riders and the other held by her face. She seems to say something, and there's a hum in the air. The warmth he'd felt in the forest returns, the sense of a friend nearby. It's almost static, crackling against his skin, making him feel somehow alive. Aragorn's hand falls to his sword hilt, wondering if he ought to exit and fight the Ring Wraiths with her. There's a pause, as though _Ilúvatar_ himself took a breath, then she's gone. He's forced to open the window and look out, astounded when a Ring Wraith goes flying. She's standing between the remaining two, knives raised to parry the oncoming swings of each Rider. Like bladed wind, she makes quick work, and Aragorn is astounded to hear only the screams and wails of the frustrated Wraiths. She rears like a dragon, jumping high into the air, and comes down atop one Wraith, who crumples like a pile of rocks beneath her feet. The howl of agony is silenced as she drives her blade through the head of the Black Rider… then slowly looks up at the remaining two. She jumps back before they can react, her hands moving oddly in front of her chest, then she takes a deep breath. Aragorn watches in shock as she sets the Wraiths on fire with her breath alone. The Riders screech and make haste, scattering faster than frightened chickens in the face of a wily fox.

She stands there, arms fully exposed as she seems to scan the surrounding area for more of them. Then her eyes find his, and Aragorn doesn't bother ducking back into the room. He's been greatly surprised throughout the entire fight, but it's even more shocking when she bows toward him. Aragorn stares as flash of pink and a flutter of leaves is all that remains of her presence, then shuts the window. Samwise is at his side, but the hobbit says nothing, merely grimly staring at the smoldering remains of what had been their room. Thankfully, whatever had lit that fire had been contained by the quick-thinking staff of the Inn. Aragorn ushers Samwise back to bed as he takes a chair for himself. Drawing out his pipe, he sits in the dark and smokes. He might as well let the hobbits sleep for as long as they can. They have a long journey to make come morning.

* * *

Leaving behind her pack with one of the _Hiraishin_ kunai had been a stroke of brilliance before leaving to do battle against those ungainly creatures. Her journey back is thankfully instantaneous, allowing Sakura to sink among the branches. The trees seem to sense her agitation and shake around her. Sakura can feel quite a few leaves stroking her face, back and arms; the trees don't seem satisfied that she's alright. She reaches out to touch them, breathing deeply. They're only as jittery as she is, so she has to calm herself first. As her breaths even out and her battle-lust simmers down, the trees slowly stop shaking. The one she's been using as a bed for the past three days seems unusually active, with branches wrapping possessively around her and vines slithering to wrap around her ankles and wrists. She pushes a bit of her chakra into it, allowing the anxious wood to relax around her. She turns, pressing her back against the rough bark. Sakura runs a hand through her hair and checks her pack one more time to be sure everything's alright. Once she's settled, she jumps higher to use the moonlight to better inspect her own body.

Sakura checks herself, making sure she has no wounds along her body. The creatures she'd fought had been almost incorporeal, no matter how much she had cut them with her kunai. It wasn't until she had pushed chakra into her knives that she had been able to inflict any kind of damage onto them. Though from the way they'd run from fire, she can assume that the flames did more damage than anything she tried before. Even then, she could sense the damage had been minimal. Even the one she'd crushed beneath her feet and promptly silenced with a chakra-charged kunai hadn't really died. She'd felt the essence of it slip away, as though some slippery shadow puppet. All of them had felt intangible, like spirits or mere copies split from a whole. There had been a thread of some sort present, connecting the robed figures among themselves and onto another entity somewhere further south. It reminds her vaguely of Sasori's puppets. All she had managed to do way drive them away. It makes her grit her teeth in annoyance, wondering how she can kill them. The source of their energy had come from somewhere in their hands, the only appendages she could spot among their flowing robes. Perhaps she could cut off their hands to remove the source of their power? Or she could seal their essence onto an object, similar to how it's done to a tailed beast. Gaara had once told her Shukaku had spent a few years sealed into a pot of some kind. The destruction of the object would then ensure their demise, Sakura theorizes. She's not an expert on those kind of seals, that's more Naruto's forte. She can't seal something as powerful as a tailed beast, but she knows enough of the subject to trap humans or animals into objects. It is basic procedure taught to ANBU hopefuls and any medical personnel to transport a living body from one place to another without causing damage to it. As the creatures had felt vaguely human, perhaps she can do it. She'd have to prepare objects with which to lock them up…

Sakura wishes she had her team with her. She dearly wishes Naruto was here with her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and tucking her close. She closes her eyes and envisions her team, comforting herself with the idea of their welcome, their love and their comradery. She wonders if perhaps she isn't imposing on the warrior merely because she feels lonely. She sinks back to the woods below and huddles against the trees. She recalls the way the warrior had fearlessly met her gaze. Perhaps with this he might think she's truly on his side. Still, the language barrier is bothering her. From what she could tell, the warrior had no longer been alone when the black figures had attacked. Maybe he'd been waiting for someone, and that someone was being chased by those robed creatures. Sakura checks the sky and wonders if she can sleep some more. Considering she'd put a _Hiraishin_ seal on his back, maybe she can relax enough to catch some hours of sleep. Sure, the battle had put her nerves on edge, but she hasn't been able to catch eight straight hours of sleep for the last few days. That, at least, is enough to help her shut her eyes and lean her head against the tree behind her. Tomorrow would come soon enough, as sunrise is only a few hours away. Tomorrow, she'd start on the plans for sealing those odd creatures. For now, she'll sleep.

* * *

Aragorn listens to Butterbur talk a mile a minute, dismayed at the destruction wrought to his Inn the night before. It had been a contained explosion, but that part of the hobbit rooms would need heavy remodeling and work. All they had managed to find was a black knife among the rubble, which Aragorn now hold between his hands. It's an odd object, to be sure. He'd never seen anything like it. Its point is deadly sharp and well-kept, a four-sided honed blade. Its hilt is slim, for what he supposed to be easy maneuvering, with a thick ring at the end. What little he'd seen of the creature using the knives, she was clearly dexterous and well-versed in their use. Her seamless, adroit wielding of the small, deadly blades would be enough to put even a seasoned warrior like him on edge. Should they ever cross paths on a battle-field, he's not sure he can defeat her with swordsmanship alone. Butterbur seems _sure_ that the knife would only bring his Inn bad luck, so when Aragorn offers to take it, the Innkeeper couldn't have been more delighted.

"Never has such a thing happened in my time!" Butterbur cries, looking sleepy and frightened as he peers into the destruction of his precious Inn. "Guests unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming to?"

"Dark times," Aragorn mutters, then goes on to tell the Innkeeper they must leave at once. He asks for a bite to eat before they depart, trying to usher the terrified hobbits beside him into a semblance of order so they may pack and make their way out of Bree. The hobbits had accompanied him as soon as they were roused and stared in horror at the desolation that came upon their rooms. They had barely even been in them, merely taking a moment to wash before supper, then supping in the common room. If not for Aragorn, they would be among the burnt wood and stone, making this disaster one of casualties. As it was, none of the other hobbit rooms had been disturbed, which struck Aragorn as odd. Of course, the Ring Wraiths had only entered this room, but the explosion had been carefully contained. He'd never seen any gunpowder whose destruction could be so precise. Worse, though the scent of burnt wood, linens and stone was pervasive, Aragorn could detect no hint of gunpowder. How was this explosion achieved?

Butterbur's return from readying their mounts and a standing bite to eat interrupts his thoughts, as the hobbits listen on. It seems that sometime last night, all of the mounts in the stables had been released! Not just Merry's five ponies, but every other horse and beast of the place had been stolen. The Innkeeper's sad reckoning that no other beast in Bree would be up for sale, as they're few and used for draught. Those that would have been for rent had been stabled with him, and thus were numbered among the missing animals. As Strider supposes that ponies would not have been much help in escaping horsemen, Frodo looks downtrodden. Their trip has only scarcely begun and already things are going wrong! In fact, what Aragorn had planned to be a quick and quiet escape from Bree resulted in more than three hour's delays and most of Bree in the know of their predicament, as they required at least one pony to make the trip. Bob, returning from inquiring in town for a pony, returned with sad news that none was to be got for love or money… save for the one. Bill Ferny's price turned out to be absurd, but Butterbur would hear none of their protests when he paid the price himself, even offering Merry an additional expense for compensation in losing his animals.

The hobbits were thus urged to re-pack in preparation would what would undoubtedly be a much longer journey. Now that it was well-known fact that Strider had taken up with this band of traveling hobbits, Aragorn no longer saw the need for secrecy. Instead of heading off into the country to be held back or blocked by the Bree-landers (who would be curious to see what they did and would follow to make sure they did not trespass), he chose to take the main Road. The hobbits made quite a show of thanking Mr. Butterbur, Bob and Nob for their services before taking leave of them. Aragorn lead them out of town, following by the curious gazes and jeering cries of Bree.

* * *

The lack of ponies to help the poor hobbits make good time has made their trip all the more wretched. Bill, bought conveniently from the loathsome man of the same name, could only carry so much on his bony flank. Aragorn is amused at how the fattest of the hobbits seems to have taken personal offence to the pony's clear malnutrition, constantly offering the beast a carrot, weed or even an apple. Already, the harassed pony was looking much livelier, as though sensing a change in his situation at the hands of a much more merciful master. Their trips consisted mostly of walking, with a few twists and doublings as Aragorn did his best to confuse pursuit. He's sure that if the creature of the forest should choose to follow them, they would probably be unable to avoid her. The Ring Wraiths and human stalkers, though, that's familiar ground for the Ranger. He's confident he can lose any tracker, even with four trailing hobbits and a half-starved pony. Once entering the wooded country, the hobbits could tell the Ranger had grown tense, scanning the tree tops as well as the area around them with great care and consideration. Their way to Archer was generally uneventful, with short meeting almost exclusively with the local wild-life and birds. There was a brief moment when Pippin thought he'd seen a flash of pink among the canopy above, but he ignored it in favor of the land around him.

It took several day's journey for them to exit the woods and enter the marshes, to the torment of the hobbits. The third and fourth day they spent batting at the midges who seemed to find inventive ways to crawls into their clothes and sting them unrepentantly. Until the fifth day could they finally be rid of the pesky bugs and the Neekerbreekers (fondly named by Samwise) who would barely let them sleep. Whenever the hobbits would settle down to rest, Frodo would watch as Strider stood constant vigil, between them and whatever darkness laid ahead. It was a comfort to have the Ranger among them, expertly weaving them through the perils of the outdoors.

It wasn't until they were able to see the line of hills in the East that Aragorn breathed a bit in relief. Leaving the woods behind gave him some semblance of calm, but Weathertop brought a whole host of problems for them. While it was the place Gandalf had promised to wait, it was also the perfect place for an ambush. The Black Riders would use it to seek them out, as it commands a wide view all round. Aragorn decides to make for it anyway, but using a less travelled path that would bring them to Weathertop from the north and less openly. He glances back to the distant tree line in the West they had long ago left behind. So far, in this open country, he had not spotted the pink haired creature. It would do for them, however, to be wary.

* * *

Sakura doesn't even bother keeping pace with the party any more, though she's had fun the past few days of stalking them through the treetops and staring openly at these child-like men. They're no taller than a twelve-year-old, but clearly grown and in full-faculties of their bodies. As long as they stayed within the forest, Sakura was able to fly around them with her bird-clone, keeping them safe. She'd grown aware of strange creatures who seemed too interested in the movements of the small band of travelers, and the dark chakra that emanated from them. To keep herself entertained as she kept pace with the party during the first few days, she started picking them off one by one. She'd killed more birds than she could count, often giving them up for the forest to greedily consume. There had been an odd wolf-like creature along with a half-dead stag. None of them seemed healthy for consumption, so Sakura stuck with hunting other woodland creatures for sustenance and salting their meat for later meals. When they left the woods, she fell back a bit, wondering what she ought to do. Her clone she then sent to keep watch from above as she scouted ahead, unwilling to be lead without knowing the terrain. She had avoided the ugly looking marshes, mostly due to the fact that such places were breeding grounds for diseases. Sakura decided that she had to leave the woods, as it appears this would be their true end. She petted the trees as their leaves stroked her hair. There was a whisper of wind, as though the trees were conferring amongst themselves and Sakura stood in silent reverence of this lively forest. They were never going to believe her back home. She smiled, bowed to the woods at large, and thanked them heartily. "I'm so grateful," she told them, "thank you."

She went south-east instead, inspecting the road, the plains and the distant hills she could see clustering to the south-west. There were also hills to the East, striking the sky with their high tops among the clouds. Among them, one had a conical top, which drew Sakura to it like a moth to flame. Worse, she was sure that the day before, that area had been flooded by bright lights and the hum of powerful chakra. She had come this way precisely because of it, thought she had not dared to come too close while whomever housed such strength had been present. Now, though, perhaps she could approach with greater surety, as it was gone. If she should reach the flattened summit, she would be able to observe the entirety of the land much better and perhaps start on a map of sorts. Something in her instincts shudders, as such a convenient viewing ground would surely come with a maleficent catch. She analyzes the ground between her and the hills, wondering how she could approach it without being seen. It's nearing sundown, so she'll be able to use the cover of darkness, but it's still a few hours off before total darkness. The full moon had passed, readily waxing, thus exposing the land to a bright light, and leaving her with a small window of time. Using a genjutsu of such magnitude to take cover would require chakra she's unwilling to spare in the case of an enemy camping out at the top. She could use a henge and transform into a bird, but she hasn't seen many native birds in the area. If anything, this part is shockingly lacking in fauna. It could have been due to last night's lightshow. As such, pretending to be an animal would only bring suspicion on her head. Sakura's never been one for patience, so she makes for the other hills, using the shadows cast by their large bulk blocking the fading sun. At an easy pace, she's at their base with half an hour to spare for sundown, watching the land around her darken. There's a stream there, idling down the hills and onwards to join the marshes. Sakura kneels beside it, washing her face with the cool water and taking a replenishing sip once it's been purified. She then dips her canteen into the stream, refilling it then dipping a finger to purify the undoubtedly grimy water. She explores the flank of this hill, seeking for any kind of shelter she could take in case the situation at the top proved to be unfavorable.

Along the western flank, Sakura finds a sheltered hollow, with a grassy dell in the shape of a bowl located in the bottom. She gently lowers her pack there and throws one of her Hiraishin kinai into the ground to ensure a quick return to this place. Darkness would be cover enough, as it was even difficult to spot the hollow from afar. Still, after last night's chakra flow, Sakura is sure there are others in this strange land who are capable of accessing that natural resource. To be sure, she places a small genjutsu to make it seem like nothing is there, disguising her pack. To hide better, she pulls on the hair covering and her hood, so her figure won't be seen from afar once she makes her way uphill. She exits the hollow and stares at the path that flows upward unevenly. Instead, she looks out toward the rocky face that stands completely at an angle from the Earth and chooses that way would be much faster than simply walking.

She scales to the summit, the sun casting convenient shadows all along the length of the hill. She reaches the top within minutes, but stays off the rim, senses straining. Nothing comes up, so Sakura launches herself upwards, a kunai in each hand as she lands and crouches threateningly… but no one is there. She straightens, looking about curiously at what must have once been a human building or temple. There is a wide ring of ancient stonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. In the center there seemed to be a large pile of broken stones, with everything around it smelling strongly of smoke. Sakura covers her mouth and does her best to avoid touching anything. There are a few areas in the ruined circle that seemed to have been blackened by fire. She pushes chakra to her feet, so she may walk without disturbing the dust underneath. She explores the entire summit, finding traces of what must have been a rather determined struggle between to powerful forces. If anything, there's a taint in the air that reminds her of the creatures she'd fought back at the village, though it would not have been possible for those foul creatures to have made it there so quickly. She'd seen them move on horseback, and she'd moved at a pace no horse could keep. As she passes by the pile of stones, the topmost one draws her attention, as it's whiter than the rest. It's as though it had not been touched by the fire, which had clearly ravaged the rest. Undoubtedly, someone had tampered with it after the fire; Sakura picks it up, turning it over carefully. There are some marks on the flat-underside, scratches of some kind. Made up of mostly lines, she can see an initial line with two smaller branches breaking off, a dot, followed by three long scratches. The marks look deliberate.

Alarmed, Sakura puts it where she found it, wondering if one of the robed figures had left it there as a message to others. Would there be more? She thinks to the _Hiraishin_ kunai she left at the bottom and readies her safe return to the sheltered hollow. However, another, more cool-headed part of her wonders if this perhaps had been left for someone else. If the warrior would be headed this way, it's possible someone had been traveling ahead of his party. The whole of the land is covered in a thin grey light, but Sakura can't make out enough to draw a map just yet. It would be a waste not to make use of this space for the original purpose she can come this way. Of course, she can't possibly make camp up here. It's to exposed, windy and any fire she could make would be visible for miles. Instead, she hides another of her _Hiraishin_ kunai, digging it into the ground near the path that lead to the top. Satisfied she was a way back without having to climb again, Sakura activates the _Hiraishin_ at the bottom, almost stumbling at the sudden change of her surroundings. She clicks her tongue as she retrieves the weapon, thinking about practicing the technique some more. She can use it to get to and from a place but can't use it as successfully as the Nidaime or Yondaime, who would incorporate it into their battle strategies. If she wants to have the upper hand in this unknown land, she will probably need to get used to employing the technique in battle. As she searches for the seal she planted on the warrior, she can still feel it's at least two days out from this place. She has time.

Sakura makes herself comfortable among the grass, carefully laying out her cloak and pack to use them as a blanket and pillow. Though the hollow is cold, it's protected from the scathing winds present at the top. The genjutsu she expands to include herself, unwilling to be spotted easily should she be caught off-guard. For a moment, she wishes her team was here with her, so they might share a campfire, stories and heckle each other over who would take first watch. Kakashi always took first watch, though. As it is, Sakura can only take short periods of rest, instead. She hunkers down for some much needed sleep, her mind racing head at the plans for the sealing components she would need for the robed creatures as well as how she could practice using the _Hiraishin_. Two days, she thinks, before passing out in exhaustion.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 6,600**

 **Not yet the battle of Weathertop, but we're getting there! For any of you who read the books, you'd note that Gandalf left a stone signed with a G3, meaning himself and passing by on October 3** **rd** **. The company would not arrive until October 6** **th** **to Weathertop, which gives Sakura two days. Aragorn's wily, so he'll get there before she expects him to. Probably…**

 **Apologies for taking so long, but I went on vacation then promptly fell ill. I'm alright now, but it left me rather lethargic and unresponsive for a while. I know I'm spoiling you with such short update times, but I want to spoil you. Hopefully, this chapter makes up for my few days offline.**

 **Thank you all for following my story! Don't forget to review!**


	5. Destroyer of Worlds

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: Battle of Weathertop, after some training and world-building. This is a loooong chapter; it was difficult to write, hence the long wait.**

 **Everything described in this chapter is as shown in the maps originally drawn for LotR. I hope… Looking through every possible moment in the Naruto-verse where they mention cardinal directions (North, South, East, West) and judging from how Kishimoto drew the maps, I can assume that cartography is the same in both worlds. As Tolkien is very detail oriented, I know his world to the letter. Kishimoto is not quite so expositional. However, he does mention the cardinal directions and even that Suna is three day's travel (ninja speed) from Konoha. I'm not an expert on maps, but I can assume that Aragorn and the hobbits covered between 10-15 miles a day. It's not much, but considering they'd walk maybe 8 hours a day and the fact that Aragorn constantly doubled back and swept in circles to lose any tails… they actually covered a lot of ground in the five days it took for them to get to Weathertop (a little over 50 miles). As such, I based the distances between points in the map on that. If I'm wrong, I apologize.**

 **Many thanks to** _ **SimpleCompromise**_ **, who leaves such lovely reviews! Please know that I read each one and appreciate them greatly! Thank you to all anonymous reviewers as well!**

 **Someone questioned my use of too-long paragraphs. That's a style choice, and it costs a lot out of me to write like that; it's in celebration of Tolkien, who wrote paragraphs that spanned PAGES. So, let us both make an effort in writing and reading those mammoths together.**

 **I wrote this entire chapter in my head while on vacation, then when I sat down to type it out, something went wrong. I thought this chapter would be the usual 7k words… but then this chapter just went s** _ **urprise.**_ **And now you have this beauty, 12k words, just for you. The cutoff went straight to chapter 5, because… yes, yes it was much longer.**

 **Please remember that Aragorn's a very competent dude. He may not be a ninja, but he's a Ranger of the North. And by golly, that means something!**

 _ **Tuilérë**_ **means Spring-day in Elven.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four  
** **Destroyer of Worlds**

Sakura wakes to peace, finding the dawn has begun to filter through the sky and light the sheltered hollow in sepia tones. She rubs her face, sighing as three hours of sleep register on her exhausted mind. As she sits up, she curls the cloak more securely around her shoulders. Though wind does not reach the hollow, the dawn hours are damp and cold. She's dressed more conservatively than usual, but this place has colder temperatures than she's used to. If she's any judge of seasons, it is probably mid-autumn and the weather will get progressively colder very soon. As she had not seen almost any fauna on the way to the mountain, Sakura decides to forgo foraging or hunting. It would probably be a waste of time and energy. Instead, she makes a small fire to warm herself up, along with some cooked boar she'd kept in her pack from her time in the forest. As she chews thoughtfully on the meat, she thinks about her two most pressing problems as of right now. The _Hiraishin_ and the sealing of the strange robed figures are not her only worries, but they are complex issues.

Her lack of practice using the _Hiraishin_ could end with her dead in the battlefield. Though most of the people of this land seem to be incapable of accessing their chakra the way ninja do in her world, the explosion of energy she'd sensed a few days ago had proven she wasn't entirely safe from a chakra-user. Though what she had sensed had been warped, strong and wild… it hadn't exactly been chakra as she knew it. The closest she could describe it would be a bijuu's more penetrating force, not a human's abilities. If there should be people in this land with the capacity to wield a bijuu's might, then Sakura does not want to be caught in battle without using the _Hiraishin_ effectively. She'd seen her Hokage in battle with it, so she knows it's a powerful technique and incredibly useful against much stronger opponents. Hell, both the Nidaime and the Yondaime were famed for ending wars on their strategic use of that technique alone. It's essential that she learn to use it without losing her balance or feeling sick every time she displaces herself. It's not every day that Sakura runs up against a force as unknown as this one. She doesn't want to be caught off guard and end up dead before she can go home. It's been over a week since she's arrived in this place, and she's sure her team would know she's missing by now. Naruto, as Hokage, would have noticed she never came back from whatever mission he'd assigned her. She **must** master the Hiraishin, at least enough that she can use it without stumbling. Her repertoire has very few space-time jutsu, so her body isn't used to such rapid displacement. _Shunshin's_ different, as the user actually moves through space, just much quicker; as opposed to the _Hiraishin's_ instant displacement. With Hiraishin, she's not actually moving through space, but bending it so she can go from one place to the next without crossing through what lies in between. Her body, sensing the sudden teleportation and woozy from the lack of time, feels off-kilter and slightly sick.

This makes her use of Hiraishin more or less pointless, as the femtosecond it takes for her to recover would alert her enemies of her position. Whatever time she could gain by using instant displacement, she'd waste in recovering her wits. Sakura grits her teeth and thinks over it slowly, pondering the best way to accommodate herself to the technique. Naruto's father would use the technique by spreading his marked kunai all over the battlefield and thus creating open avenues for his sudden appearances. She could use a similar strategy to get used to the technique, by spreading her marked kunai about in a clearing and moving from one point onto the next until her body became used to the displacement. Another way, which was how the Nidaime had once escaped from battle, would be to throw her marked kunai and move once it reached the apex of her throw. As the area around the mountains is rather flat, she could make use of the technique like this for miles around. As the warrior was still where she had last sensed him (presumably resting), she could use it like that today. She could practice the Yondaime's formation to get used to moving about in a battlefield, and the Nidaime's escape technique to get used to the displacement. Of course, the Yondaime's strategy would be much simpler to employ, but she wanted to make use of the area around her while there was no one about. If anything, she could perhaps spend an hour getting used to activating the seal using a standard circle formation with her kunai up at the top of this mountain, before setting out to use the Nidaime's more creative method.

Nodding to herself, she follows her secondary problem; the robed figures with the evil chakra-like energy. These would be a bit more difficult, as she had only the most rudimentary skills in sealing. She could use one of her medical scrolls for transporting emergency patients from the field to a hospital, but those were only a temporary measure. If left too long, the scroll would corrode from the chakra and let the thing loose once more. The scrolls were never made to hold a human body or soul for too long. She could, however, use the seal in the scroll with some modifications to seal the creatures into something more resistant than paper. Naruto had once shown her the seal in his belly and explained each line's individual function, so Sakura's confident she can use that knowledge in her powerful memory to repurpose the seal in her scroll. She has three of them anyway, so using one to seal those things wouldn't hurt her supplies too much. Normally, she'd look for a container of sorts. That way, she could seal the creatures and have her teammates take a good look before they did they own attempt at a proper seal. However, she'd have to make a more permanent solution to her problem as she… had no teammates with her. Sakura swallows hard for a moment, missing the comfort of the trees as she's hit by a strong wave of homesickness. She sets her jaw, pulling her thoughts away from the horrifying thoughts of never seeing her family and friends again. That's one pit of despair she cannot afford to fall into right now, knee deep in hostile territory. Instead, she chews more forcefully on the meat and scoots closer to the fire, warming herself up for what will surely be a very complex solution.

As she cannot communicate with civilians from these parts, she can't very well go shopping for a resistant glass bottle or crock. She has basic skills for most basic craftsmanship, like sewing, carpentry or even tanning; these are things taught to any child of a ninja village. However, she'd never learnt pottery or glassblowing. Ino might know how, as she's the daughter of a florist who makes her own flowerpots. Sakura had no need for such a skill before, but now she's regretting ignoring Ino's invites to their classes. As such, she'll have to settle for the more rudimentary elements, like stone or petrified wood. Stone could hold even a bijuu's soul for more than a decade, provided the sealer found a solid, near-unbreakable type of rock. Petrified wood could hold a normal mortal soul, and should the wood be burned, the soul would perish as well. Considering her surroundings, she's likely to find a variety of stones, crystals and petrified wood around here. However, she's not sure she can punch a hole in these mountains just to find the gemstones likely hidden in their depths. Back home, she wouldn't have doubted it twice, especially since this place is so free of natural fauna or flora. It would be ideal to serve her purpose. She's in an unknown place, facing unknown enemies of unknown power. She doesn't want to call attention to herself by punching skylights into mountainous terrain. Back home, she's known to all five nations. Even if she levelled a volcano, people wouldn't think twice to blame it on her superhuman strength. Tsunade-shishou had brought down a mountain range in her prime.

Here, though, she's basically operating under a thick, woolly cover. One she shouldn't remove for the sake of her survival. Even a tiny hole made into a mountain could affect at least a one-hundred-mile radius should she cause a collapse. The best she could hope for would be to search for petrified wood around the stream she'd found that lead to the marshes. Considering how old these mountains probably were, she should find the remains of what could have been an old forest lying around its base. Plus, there appears to have been civilization around these parts, though long gone. Perhaps she could find the remains of an old home or village, in which she could locate dead wood as well. Dead wood would not do half as well as petrified wood in keeping the creature sealed, but if she destroyed it immediately, it would do the job creditably. If she searched for some petrified wood while she practiced _Hiraishin_ , she could kill two birds with one stone, as it were. Decided, Sakura smiles as she finishes her breakfast. But first, of course, she needs to take a good look at the lands around her. As the sun is now rising, its light gaining strength, she would be able to see everything around her for miles. Sakura suffocates the fire with a small jutsu, taking a careful sip of her canteen as she stands. She brushes her hands on her pants, grimacing a bit at the grime already stuck to her clothes. It's been four days since her last bath, and she's already feeling gross and icky. Sure, on other missions, she'd actually spent over two months without a proper bath. It doesn't mean she has to like it. If push comes to shove, she can always wash herself in the stream she'd found. She wouldn't use soap, for fear of making the water toxic for whatever wildlife live off it. A splash in cold water is much better than nothing, she supposes.

She leaves her pack once more hidden under leaves and a strong _genjutsu_ , this time sparing nothing to keep her few possessions safe. She might not have much of importance, but everything in her pack is her only link to home. This time, she forgoes leaving a _Hiraishin_ kunai with her things, instead pulling out one of the seals she'd kept folded in the pockets of her pack. She takes out the glue from a side pocket and neatly spreads it onto the tag. She places it gently on the only visible corner of her pack, activating the glue and settling it against the fabric. The seal glows gently, and Sakura puts away the glue in is proper pocket. She puts more debris over her pack to completely cover it. The hollow did not have any tall trees, but the shrubbery provided enough leaf-fall that her pack isn't just adequately covered but camouflaged among the piles of moss and undergrowth. She nods, activating the _genjutsu_ and watching the entirety of her pack vanish. With this, even if someone should step on her things, they'd feel nothing but leaves and hard ground beneath their feet; hear only the crunch of leaves and not the rustle crushed clothes or plastic. The _genjutsu_ would also discourage animals and people alike to avoid it, making them instinctually wary and unwilling to go near it, while not allowing the mind to grow curious enough to explore. It's one of Kurenai's more complex genjutsu, taught to any willing to expand their repertoire. Pleased that her things will remain undetected to even the keenest of trackers, Sakura activates the _Hiraishin_ kunai she'd left the night before, clenching her teeth when she stumbles slightly as she lands. Her stomach rolls uncomfortably, reminding her she should wait before she truly starts her training… unless she wants to throw up her breakfast, that is. She picks up the kunai, tucking it into its place in a pouch on her leg before, cautiously approaching the rim of the mountain. Even from five paces back, she can see the land around her almost in its entirety, and her stomach bottoms out as it really hits her.

Nothing she sees is recognizable.

Sakura battles with the agony of her situation for a second time that morning, trying to keep the overflowing emotions at bay. She's always been an emotional creature, so keeping it all bottled up for so long is wearing her extremely thin. At least, whenever she ran into such situations at home, she always had the certainty that she'd eventually make it to her apartment, where she could cry, free of judgement. Where she could kill, make mistakes, lose a teammate… and finally arrive at a place where the ninja's code of conduct did not matter. Finally arrive with the people who understood that ninja were human and they too would share in her tears. Here, she was as much exposed, in danger and alone as she had been from the start. She couldn't sit down to cry; she couldn't afford to. It would dehydrate her, waste her energy and make her blind to her surroundings. So, instead of sobbing like she wants to, Sakura tightly winds her emotions in a ball and carefully places them in a box inside herself. She could deal with them later, when she wasn't up in the sky, exposed and in constant danger. Sakura sets her jaw stubbornly, stares out at this wide, unrecognizable expanse and begins to carefully catalogue what she can see.

All around her, the hilltop is surrounded by wide plains; grasslands that run in some parts all the way to the horizon. However, she can see how it's interrupted often by different landmarks, of the natural and the unnatural sort. A few miles southward, she spots the winding trail of a wide expanse of what must be a road, making a rather straightforward connection between the eastern and western horizons. It follows much further than her eyes can see, but she's pretty sure the western edge leads straight to the village they had left behind four days ago. Further south, hemming the horizon, she can see the peaks of a cluster of mountains, brooding almost out of her sight, cut through by what seems to be another road. She turns looking east ward, holding one hand over her eyes to shield herself from the filtering light of the rising sun. Though the fierce sunlight keeps most to the east partially hidden, she can see the glimmer of what could be a river winding just beneath the horizon, under the backdrop of the longest mountain range Sakura has ever seen. She follows the range with her gaze, impressed by the rising peaks that seem to cloak the northern and southeastern horizon in a loving embrace. Not even Rock ninja could boast such a formidable arrangement of ridges striking the sky. Sakura turns her eyes to the north, meeting the now familiar sight of the sister peaks to her camp. She'd explored them yesterday, but she's still amazed at the sheer size of the hulking bluffs and cliffs. They block most of her view to the north, but she's certain there's a wide expanse of land that leads up to another array of mountains. Her own Five Nations boast their very beautiful ranges and peaks, but Sakura's pretty sure this is the first time she's seen such an intense formation of rock and stone in such a small expanse of land. There are not even forty miles between each peak, so even for a ninja, travelling along these parts would take at least a month.

Sakura looks westward, smiling fondly at the wild expanse of green that had been her home away from home during her first few days in this strange land. Her chakra reaches out, as though looking for a friend, and she's almost shocked when something reaches back. A sudden green, grass-like taste filters along her tongue, reminding her vaguely of her captain and the _Kyuubi_. She stands still, closing her eyes to the sensation of what cannot be anything other than wild magic pours over her. The _Kyuubi_ had been a force of nature itself, born wild and free; it's abrasive, almost abusive chakra had become a staple of what her closest friend's signature felt like. In contrast, Yamato had a sweeter, much greener energy signal; the sense of growing things and life itself. This, whatever this is, is like a mix between the two. Abrasive, yet soothing; intrusive, yet natural; the impatience for the coming spring with the eternal willingness to endure for many seasons to come. There is the slightest sound, like the tinkling flutes of a windchime, slowly filling her up like water in an empty basin. Sakura gasps, stumbling as the link is broken and the forest recedes. It hadn't just been her forest to respond, but the land itself from all around her. It welcomed her, sang to her and whispered in a language she couldn't understand. Sakura runs a shaking hand through her hair, wondering what the hell is going on. Konoha's trees had been silent, steady guardians of her home. This… this place is alive beneath the surface.

She isn't entirely sure how she feels about that. With some wonder, she realizes the dark, slithering feelings of missing her home are gone, as though purged by the presence of a friend. Sakura puts a hand over her heart, marveling, but somewhat furious it had taken them from her. Those were her feelings, no matter how much she struggled with them. She stomps her foot a little, and the familiar cracks appear beneath her feet. For a moment, Sakura is almost sure she hears an apology being whispered. She blinks, rubbing her ears, and looks up. She's been memorizing the cut of land for the better part of an hour. She now focuses on the task she'd set out to do, snapping all six of her _Hiraishin_ kunai and embedding them deeply into the ground. She finds her connection to the topmost kunai, on the norther side of the hill, and vanishes in a flash, landing heavily beside the marked weapon. She glares at her own feet, feeling a bit like a bumbling _genin_ stumbling around in the dark. Sakura activates the next one, feeling a bit easier now that she's getting used to the sensation of skipping from one spot to the next with no time in between. As she goes around the circle of kunai clockwise, Sakura begins to feel better about her use of the technique. It takes her a moment to recover, to be sure, but now she's faster. She's finding her footing better, she's carefully observing the terrain and the tiny rocks around her. To make her session a bit tougher, she decides to implement rules. Certain stones must be avoided, and after six activations, she starts shadow-boxing the air as well. She marks three of the six as enemy locations and starts skipping around as though she was in battle. Her trajectory grows hectic, almost dizzying, but Sakura smiles; she's having fun for the first time since her arrival at this place. She starts playing a revised version of the "floor is lava", dancing along her kunai on her toes with a grin.

After a few more turns, Sakura takes a short breather, wiping away the sweat. The sun's finally fully risen, and the day's truly begun. She stares out into the wide glade, suddenly anxious to find what lies along those beautiful plains. Sakura picks up her marked kunai, putting them all away and breathing deeply. It's about time she heads out to explore. Finding the path of the stream, she stands by the edge and breathes. It's a fine day for training. Only a bit of vertigo bites her heels as she looks out into the world open far below. With a grin, she whips out her _Hiraishin_ kunai and throws. As the kunai sails far above the ground below, Sakura activates it, appearing well out and far from safety. She laughs as the wind whistles around her and throws again. If she's going to train for future dangers, she might as well do so in danger. The act of catching and throwing kunai is as familiar as breathing, so she focuses on the feel of the jutsu as it activates. Miles above the surface, she flies like a bird.

* * *

Using the Nidaime's method proved to be easier said than done. More than once, Sakura almost missed catching the sailing kunai as she activated the jutsu. As such, she was forced to activate it again as gravity took hold and would plunge her body to the world beneath far earlier than the kunai she'd thrown. She got used to it after a while, but it was somewhat of a hit and miss, as she was never really sure where the kunai would be once she completed the activation. Now though, she stands panting on the ground with her eyes closed, surrounded by the wide grasslands to the south of the conical hill. Sakura examines the seal in her hands by chakra-sense alone. This is a modification of a normal sensor seal, used in the past to detect enemies in a camp. If she focuses, she can feel it pulsing in her grasp, a wisp of energy extending from her own body. She pulls her headband down over her eyes, focusing her attention entirely on the seal. The rest of her kunai, hidden in her pouches, also hum with energy. Sakura blocks them out for now, zeroing in on the one in her hand. She breathes in… and throws as she exhales. On her next inhalation, she keeps her mind entirely on the movement of the seal. Her throw reaches its apex height, and she activates it, exhaling sharply as her hand swoops to catch the kunai still in flight. Its familiar weight is perfect in her grip, balanced. Sakura allows for a smile as she inhales… and throws again as she breathes out.

This time, as she activates, her hand is a bit early and she feels the clean slice of the kunai on her thumb. Gritting her teeth, she doesn't even spare the cut any attention as her chakra quickly heals the superficial wound. She snaps her wrist, freeing the blade of blood, and tosses the kunai straight out. She breathes in as she activates it, following the kunai by stepping towards it as she makes the jump. Her hand is already over the kunai as she appears, and it settles in her grip comfortably. With a jolt, Sakura realizes that it's much easier for her body to adjust to the _jutsu_ if she's already in movement. It makes for a smoother transition and she covers more ground than when she's standing still. Now, feeling on the cusp of a breakthrough, Sakura starts to run as she throws, keeping pace with her kunai from behind before suddenly catching up by activating the _jutsu_. On her tenth try, some instinct screams, and Sakura pulls up short just before she throws, confused. She raises the headband from her eyes and blushes sheepishly when she sees she's covered so much ground, she's reached the mountains she'd seen just that morning hovering in the southern horizon. She colors, rubbing the back of her neck like Naruto would when embarrassed, and smiles to herself. Looking up, she spots the sun climbing toward noon, marking the passage of time. With a gusty sigh, Sakura turns back, smiling at the kunai in her hand. Now she's got the hang of it, so she might as well make the trip back for now. Something draws her attention toward the ground, spotting recent deer tracks in the shorter grass cluttered around the base of the mountain. As her stomach growls, a reminder of at least seven hours since her last meal, Sakura deliberates. Her stores are getting rather low in terms of fresh meat, so hunting would be useful to her now. Plus, with the _Hiraishin_ , she won't have to lug the carcass the entire way. She puts her special kunai away in her pouch, pulls a normal one out, and follows the fresh tracks into the sparsely wooded area around the mountain.

Thankfully, it's covered enough that she can stalk her prey, keeping to the shadows, while still being open enough that she spots the herd only twenty minutes after finding the tracks. They're larger than she's used to, even larger than the Nara's special breed kept hidden in their private forest. With only one or two, she's have three weeks' worth of meat. So, for the sake of not eating only mission rations, Sakura aims for the next-to largest male, and a female without offspring at her side. The first one she kills is the male, as they're faster runners than the females. She _shunshins_ , quickstepping by the large stag and quickly slicing his neck open. He falls, letting loose a pained noise, but Sakura's not there anymore. The herd has recognized a predator among them and have set off in a frenzy, afraid and upset about the previously unseen hunter. Sakura lands by her female target, ducking to avoid the swinging horns of a nearby stag. She instantly cuts the female's neck open, pushing the dying doe aside as she swings around to face the herd. If the males try to fight her for their fallen brethren, it'll take some fancy footwork to avoid their deadly horns. The deer, though, are not interested in facing her. Instead, they take flight, running skilfully among the boughs to lose her.

Left alone with her prey, Sakura stoops to pick up the female. She still alive, but only barely, bleeding out on the forest floor. Sakura mercifully widens the wound at her neck, causing the blood to flow faster and killing the doe. She jerks her wrist, cleaning the blade in her hand of blood. Once she's sure it's clean, she stows it in its proper pouch. She swings the carcass onto her shoulders, picking around the undergrowth to the stag's side. He's already dead, staring blindly out into the trees. Using a fireman's lift, she sets the male atop the female on her shoulders. They're much larger than she anticipated, so she's forced to put a bit of chakra-enhanced strength to keep herself upright. It'll be a bit difficult to keep hold of them, but Sakura has kept her right arm free, so she'll be able to throw her kunai and activate the _Hiraishin_. Blood begins to drip down her arm, staining her clothes. She faces toward the looming peaks to the north, finding the conical shape of her base camp. She takes off running, remembering how much easier it is on her body to be in movement when activating the _Hiraishin_. She draws out her marked kunai and takes aim. Her first throw is a bit sloppy, and she almost misses catching the kunai as she activates the seal. It feels different, carrying the two corpses of the deer onto her shoulders. It had been an experiment to see if she could transport both herself and her meal. Thankfully, as Sakura had supposed, as long as she's in contact with them, they would make the jump along with her. The drag on her his heavier, and though Sakura's pretty sure the jump is taking exactly the same amount of time as usual, she feels slower. By the first ten throws, she's almost halfway to the peaks. It takes another fifteen throws for her to slide into the deepening shadows of the hills. It's an hour or so past noon, but the height of the towering mountains gives the land around their base longer shadows.

Sakura finds the hollow on the western flank easily, sliding into the protective shelter of her camp base. With the deer weighing her down, she hadn't been able to search the small stream for any petrified wood. She looks down at herself, grimacing as she puts the dead deer close to her pack. Her clothes are wet with blood, and stink of deer. Sighing, she starts to build two fires, then settles down to slice the carcasses. With such large hunks of meat, Sakura would be forced to salt and smoke the meat to preserve it. She still has some boar stowed in her pack, but with this, she'll at least have a warm meal for now. She makes quick work of the female's body, skinning it and extending it over the grass to her left. She pierces the left and right flanks with wide sticks and sets them over her first fire. The meat of the legs and neck she shears neatly from the bone and slices thinly, extending the cuts on the inner side of the skin she'd left to her left for cleanliness. The bones and innards she gently places to her right, as she doesn't enjoy eating intestines prepared over a fire. As she doesn't have any cookware in her pack, she can't exactly prepare a good meal with them.

The male's carcass she prepares in exactly the same manner, leaving the flanks cooking while she slices the legs and neck. As she finishes slicing, she lowers the flame of her second fire down to smoking, nodding as the fire is reduced to mere embers. She leaves the genjutsu she'd placed before active, reaching through it to extract her pack from beneath the leaves. Laying sticks over the embers, she waits for the embers to heat back up as she salts and curates the thin slices of meat using the spices in her pack. She still has enough for a year's worth of hunting, but if she keeps salting this much, it might only last her half a year. She grits her teeth, seriously hoping she won't have to stay around this place for so long. She lays the thin slices over the sticks she'd prepared over the glowing embers. As she had done before, she uses the skin to create a make-shift cover This she places over the second fire, trapping the smoke and allowing the meat inside to be properly smoked. The flanks she'd left cooking, she removes three, keeping only one over the flame. The rest, she wraps in waxed paper from her pack, leaving them to cool before she stores them with the rest of the boar she'd hunted. As she waits for the flanks to cool, she removes the fourth and eats slowly, savoring the meat. Sakura had never been a fan of hunting on missions, preferring to keep to mission rations. However, as a medic, she knew there was only so much rice and other cereals one could crunch on before needing proper proteins. Kakashi had insisted on teaching his team to hunt, even including his dogs on hunts so his genin would never go hungry. Sakura smiles softly around her third bite, remembering her jounin-sensei fondly.

She's been active since dawn and exhaustion is close on her heels, but Sakura needs daylight to search for petrified wood around the stream. She finishes up her meal and wipes her hands carefully on her pants. They're already stinky and blood-soaked, so Sakura no longer endeavors to keep them clean. It's as good a moment as any to wash her clothes and seek out what she'll use to seal the robed creatures, so she packs up the left overs and leaves the smoking meat alone. She doesn't have it in her to activate another powerful _genjutsu_ to hide the meat, so Sakura leaves it alone. She has enough meat to last her another two weeks, so even if she loses what she just hunted, it won't affect her stores too much. Instead, she takes out the clothes she'd left in a plastic covering from before, her only clean set. She'll have to wash before she puts them on, but at least she won't have to explore the country naked while she waits for her clothes to dry. She hides her pack beneath leaves and the same _genjutsu_ , careful now that it's bulging more due to the extra meat. She douses the first fire and covers it, spreading the ashes so nothing will seem out of place. Finished, she steps back. Except for the scent of freshly cooked food and the smoking fire beneath the cover of deer-skin, the hollow looks completely undisturbed.

Satisfied, Sakura sets out with a clean set of clothes. She can't wash her clothes with soap, but she can leave them long enough in the water so at least they won't stink of blood and sweat. She pauses for a moment as she spots several tracks in the mud around the dell, surprised she hadn't seen them before. As she had arrived near sundown yesterday, the tracks must have been hidden from her. This morning, she hadn't even come this way, using instead the _Hiraishin_ to climb to the top instantly and leaving the mountain using _Hiraishin_ again. They look at least a day old, and Sakura grows wary. Most of those seem from a heavy set of boots, or many of them. She freezes, returning to the dell to search it more thoroughly. She grits her teeth as she finally notices the traces of passage from someone else, even finding a pile of sticks left for kindling hidden behind a pile of fallen rocks. Whomever had been here, they had been clearly planning on returning. She thinks back on the light show from a few days before. At least, they weren't here any longer, but it's enough to put her on edge. She decides to follow her original plan, but this has shown the sheltered hollow to be less than safe as she had originally thought.

Sakura follows the stream until it widens a bit more, enough that she'll be covered up to her waist if she steps into the center. She scans her surroundings, barely even hearing the song of nearby insects. The water is rather clean, and barely any animals seem to come close to the peaks. She carefully undresses, leaving her armor by the set of clean clothes. Sakura spots a wide stone on the other side of the river where she can lay her clothes out to dry once she's done. She wades into the center of the stream to gently wash her clothes free of grit and blood. Sakura stains the water around her pink for a moment from the fresh deer blood, focused on the task at hand and the noise of nature around her. She can't afford to be caught off guard by anything in her vulnerable state, so she's especially wary. As the blood is fresh, it washes away quickly from her cloak, shirt and pants; the grit, however, is several day's old and won't be so easy to wash. She rubs fiercely but keeps from pulling too strongly at the clothes. She only has two sets, so she must be gentle with them. Though she feels very cautious and insecure, she takes her time washing her clothes. As the water swirls around her, Sakura rolls her shoulders and takes her clothes to the wide stone she'd spotted earlier. Laying out her clothes for the sun to dry them, she goes back into the center of the stream to wash herself. It's troublesome to keep an eye on her things on both banks, but it helps pass the time as she washes off the dirt and blood on her skin. She gently unwinds the breast band around her chest and slips out of her tabi and underwear, washing all four strips of clothing in the stream before tossing them onto the stone. They land in a wet heap, and she creates a small clone in the shape of a bird to keep an eye on her things while she dips her head into the water to wash her hair. Sakura feels almost as though she's washing out three years' worth of grime from herself, holding her breath as she washes her pink tresses.

Once she's done, she stands in the cold water, brushing the droplets out of her eyes. Her clone chirps and vanishes, just as Sakura leaves the water to pick up the dry clothes on the other side. A burst of chakra vaporizes the water on her skin, leaving her dry. Though she doesn't exactly smell clean, at least she doesn't stink of sweat and blood. She dresses quickly, binding her chest and pulling on her underwear so at least she isn't naked. She leaves the rest for later as she fetches her armor to wash away the flecks of blood and dirt on her gear. She won't need to oil the armor again, as it's still somewhat fresh, but at least she doesn't want it to be so dirty. Her arm-guards she washes just as carefully, kneeling in the stream so she won't be too far into the water but deep enough she can wash her things neatly. Once both are clean, she jumps to the other bank, leaving her armor and guards by her drying clothes. She returns to her dry, clean set in a single jump, landing cat-like on the opposite side. Sakura doesn't mind trapezing about in only her underwear, but it's best if she doesn't get caught like this by an enemy. She dresses efficiently, and feels better for being fed, somewhat clean and in a new set of clothes. She rubs her face, feeling a bit tired, and deciding it best to dry her recently washed clothes and head out to look for the petrified wood she'd need to seal the robed figures. She toes into her _tabi_ and boots, heads onto the other side of the stream and dries her clothes with a quick burst of chakra. She heads back toward the sheltered hollow to put her things in her pack, checks the smoking meat then pulls on the cloak. It smells somewhat of dirt and grass, but at least it no longer smells like deer.

Speaking of which, Sakura grabs the remains of her hunt, pulling both bone carcasses and innards out of the dell. She considers tossing them and instead decides to simply burn them to a crisp. She follows the flow of the river a bit further before setting the bones down and performing a quick fireball _jutsu_. The bones and innards light rather easily and go up in smoke, leaving behind only a pile of ash. She shoves the ash into the water, letting it flow toward the marshes, where the ash would eventually descend to the bottom and become nutrients for the plants there. She jumps onto the surface of the stream, scanning the bottom and edges with a keen eye. As she expected, there seems to be what remains of a small forest around it, but she doesn't instantly find what she's looking for. Eventually, as she slinks sound atop the rushing water, she spots several rounded pieces of what could be petrified wood. She stoops, picking up the brown and red pebbles and smiles when she realizes it's exactly what she's looking for. Sakura hunts for some more, as only two pieces would not be enough, and by the time the sun's begun to set, she's found a total of about thirty-five different pieces. Some are chipped or have cracks, which she instantly tosses back into the stream. Those imperfections would eventually lead to the creature's essence leaking out, so she prefers the more complete pieces that she finds. She weighs them in her hands, inspecting the multitude of stone-like wooden pieces she's found. Most of them are rather small, no bigger than her fingers, but some she's found as large as her palm. She's been stashing the best ones in the largest pouch at her hip, ignoring the increasing weight and discomfort of such a large bulge at her side.

Deciding it best to start on the modification of the medical sealing scroll, Sakura heads back. The sun's begun to set and she's rather tired. She'll have to sleep a long time tonight to make up for it, but she's not sure that she can. Considering she's found proof that the sheltered dell is not quite so uninhabited, she can't relax. However, she must if she's to continue to practice _Hiraishin_ tomorrow. Thanks to the food she's eaten, her chakra stores are not so severely depleted, but they took quite a hit. She sighs, and in the next step, she activates she seal on her pack, relocating instantly. Sakura smiles when the transition feels more natural and sits by her pack, dropping the petrified wood into a neat pile. She raises the lid off her smoking meat and nods appreciatively when she notes it's cooking rather nicely. She throws in a few more sticks and leaves, careful not to awaken the embers so much that the fire would leap and ruin the meat. It will take at least two more hours for the meat to fully cook, so she covers it back up and gathers her pack a few paces off.

She removes the covering of her pack and the genjutsu, finally allowing it to fade. It would not be easy for her to place it a second time with her chakra storage, but for now she won't be needing it. The sun's last fading hours leave the dell in a sort of perennial dusk, but with enough light that Sakura won't have to start a secondary fire to see for as long as the sun remains up. She brings out her medical sealing scroll from a special compartment on her hip pouch and brings out her writing implements and ink. As she did with the Hiraishin seals, she sets up her work area before getting started, hunting for a straight surface to write without problems. A suitable rock is found and placed as she sits cross-legged on the floor, taking great care to have everything close at hand. Her ink she prepares with great care, pouring the necessary water onto the oval ink board before rubbing her ink stick in patient, circular motions. She brings out a thin brush, testing the density of the ink and finding it perfect. Her left hand she brings to her lips and bites her thumb, holding the wound over the ink and letting a single drop of blood fall. The wound heals without Sakura even noticing as she swirls her blood into the ink until it's completely mixed in. It's a hassle, having to always sacrifice her blood for the seals, but it ensures the correct activation and even a degree of faithfulness from her own seals. Naruto had once explained that using her own blood would bind the seals exclusively to her, though Sakura wasn't sure this rang true. Still, she'd found that using her blood would activate the ink much faster and her seals were of better quality for it. Sakura puts her ink stick away carefully, wanting to preserve the delicate resource for as long as she is in this country. She then faces the stone once more, unfolding the medical sealing scroll with a precise snap of her wrist. It opens elegantly, unveiling the seal in the white paper within.

She puts the brushes down and inspects the seal thoroughly, drawing a mental map in her mind of the lines she would have to add in order to bind the creatures to the petrified wood she'd found. The neat pile of petrified wood sits to her right, by her pack, as Sakura mentally calculates how many she should do this time. The chakra equations in her head grow more and more complex as she considers perhaps activating more than one at a time, perhaps even ten or twelve of the fragments could be bound by the technique to house a soul. It would be a serious hit to her reserves if she tries to do so many, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Those things had posed a serious threat, given that almost nothing she'd tried had even fazed them. She decides on only binding six of the stones to the seal for later use, as she'd only faced three enemies in the village. It's highly unlikely for there to be many more of them sulking around the countryside. Still, Sakura decides she can make another four tomorrow once her stores have recovered sufficiently. Ten is a nice number she can work with, though she's starting to wonder if she has enough time to maybe try to activate more. For now, she'll have to make do with six, so she leans over the scroll, nabs one of her thicker brushes, and dips it delicately into the ink. She decides to start from right to left, top to bottom in her modifications, carefully thinking her design through. She desperately wishes Kakashi was here for help and guidance. She'll probably make some horrible mistake and the seal won't hold… Sakura breathes deeply, trusting in her memory, her _shishou's_ teachings and what little she'd read on seals when she'd been studying them during training. The white bristles on the brush absorb the ink and turn an iridescent blue-black, so Sakura carefully lifts the brush at an angle, so she won't drip ink onto the seal. With firm, deliberate strokes, she makes the first adjustments.

As the lines crisscross, the seal almost hums, coming to life as the modification sets in. She's gentle, making sure the lines are just wide and long enough, precise and functional. Once she completes the basic re-structure around and inside the seal, she sets down the wide brush and picks up the smaller brush she'd set aside earlier to mix the ink and uses it to write the different characters in neat calligraphy. She rises at last, coming out of the trance induced by the seal and squinting in the dark to see her handy work. Sakura had been so focused; two hours had passed and sunset was near. She stands, building a secondary fire while the ink dries and removing the smoked meat from the glowing embers. It's perfectly cooked, so Sakura wraps it up in waxed paper from her pack and carefully stows it. With all of her supplies, she should be able to withstand at least four weeks without having to hunt again. Nodding to herself, Sakura returns to her prior task, holding the scroll up for inspection. She smiles as she notes the lines are perfectly drawn, exactly what she'd wanted to do. She leaves the scroll on the stone as she considers the petrified wood now, with greater care. She leaves the smaller stone-like pieces aside, deciding that they size will probably not hold a dog's soul, much less a human's. Instead, she inspects the ones she'd found the size of her palm, weighing them in her hand. She has about seventeen pieces in total that would be suitable for sealing at least a human soul. Of these, she picks ten out and separates the six she'll be prepping tonight.

Settling close to the fire so she can see what she's doing, Sakura carefully dries each stone before making the appropriate characters, lines and swirls for the seal on the stone. The scroll would be her primary conduit, but she'd have to direct the sealing onto the stone. As she's not skilled at placing a seal directly, like Jiraya or the Yondaime Hokage were famous for, Sakura must use the scroll as a means to seal something into an object. She makes doubly sure that the stones match line for line the design on the scroll, as sealing _jutsu_ are known to backfire on the user if they make so much as one mistake. As she completes the design on the stones, she places them one by one onto the scroll. Sakura takes a moment to tend to her brushes and ink board, gently washing and drying them before stowing them carefully into her pack. On normal missions, she doesn't find much use for them, but here, in this far away place, it's one of her best and most valuable objects. She's unsure whether she'll find ink to replace the one she already uses, or even something as commonplace as brushes. She doesn't know what the people of this land use as writing implements, but she's not wasting a precious resource. As she was taking care of her things, the chakra already inserted into the ink had begun to glow and grow active. The hum of chakra intensifies, making Sakura a bit nervous that someone will notice the gathering of energies in her tiny shelter. The deepening night shows no signs of anything other than the occasional bat flying overhead, but Sakura doesn't want to be too complacent and be caught off guard. The warrior had shown himself to be a capable tracker and resourceful. It stands to reason there would be more like him out there. She cannot, however, stop the process halfway. She doesn't have the kind of huge chakra resource to constantly call up this kind of power, so it's now or never. As she finishes the last of the six stones, the noise from her gathering chakra is near deafening. Sakura closes her senses from the thunderous thrum, instead focusing on the entwining lines she'd drawn on the various surfaces atop the scroll. Her chakra merrily flows through the pathways, lighting up each stone like an electric bulb to the point that the fire beside her is more or less rendered redundant. Sakura flows through the hand signals, initializing the complete connection to the stones and the scroll, and feeling her chakra truly drain out of her. She feels the connecting pathways like a rat in a maze, almost overwhelmed as she pours her chakra into the activation of this complex influx of seals. For a moment, her entire world has coalesced into this one seal, shining bright and alive with vigorous chakra. Sakura feels her back wobble as her reserves dry up, and she's only just finished connecting the last of the petrified wood to the scroll before she runs out of chakra.

She gasps, feeling suddenly cold and alone, as the light of her technique fades and allows the grassy dell to fall into darkness once more. She sways, blinking hard as the dark colors distort heavily in her vision. Her stomach rolls, reminding her she hasn't eaten anything since little after noon. Sakura's glad she's sitting down, because she's pretty sure she wouldn't be on her feet at this point. The six stones give a fain glow, demonstrating the success of her technique, and Sakura finds herself hard pressed to remain upright. She blinks furiously once, twice, before realizing she may have just overdone it a bit.

It's the last thought she has for the next eight hours.

* * *

Sakura wakes with a sharp intake of breath, jackknifing almost entirely upright. She stares around her urgently, her hands already full of _senbon_ even as she fights to orient herself. It takes her a moment for her mind to catch up with her, even as she strains to see in the darkness of the dell. To her great relief, there is no one there. As she analyses the situation, Sakura grimaces. She can't believe she didn't take the time to eat something before attempting the technique and replenish her energy. Even now, she's still feeling sluggish, as though her brain has to wade through syrup to get from one thought to the next. Judging from the darkness outside, it's still a few hours before sunrise. She breathes carefully, feeling a bit dizzy from her sudden lapse in chakra. For someone famed for her control, she's doing some pretty stupid things while in an unknown place. Tsunade would fling her out a window for her incompetence. Even though she calculated the exact among of chakra she would need, she had overestimated her reserves. After frolicking in the countryside using only _Hiraishin_ , it's no surprise she hadn't had enough for six containment seals. Then it strikes her, as she's looking blearily at the scroll at her feet, and she almost smacks herself. She, in all her genius, had forgotten to take into account the scroll's activation, which functioned as an seventh seal and had consumed whatever energy she would have had left over after the technique. Sakura carefully sinks to her knees, somewhat shaky from her abuse of her own energy and quick rise to her feet.

She runs a hand through her hair, leaning over to rummage through her pack. She finds the cooked deer meat she'd wrapped in wax the day before, taking out one piece of that and a packet of dry rations. She quietly munches on both as she wills the world to please stop spinning before her eyes. She stares at the smoldering remnants of the fires she'd left burning the night before, extinguished from a lack of wood to consume. Sakura sighs, quickly swallowing her wholesome meal and deciding to check on the _Hiraishin_ she'd tagged onto the warrior. To her utter surprise and dismay, he's much closer than she'd originally thought. If anything, he's perhaps only a few hours away; probably arriving around these parts by midday. If he's coming this way, she'll have to carefully remove all traces of her passage. He probably won't be setting out until just before dawn, but he's shown to be an extremely capable tracker and apt at reading traces left behind. Thankfully, the signs of previous inhabitation win the dell would explain away the fires she's built. Her tracks are nonexistent, but she would need to at least air the place out (it stank of smoked meat) and vacate it before he arrived. Though she trusted her _genjutsu_ to fool anyone (except a _Sharingan_ or _Byakugan_ user), she didn't have the chakra to spare for one complex enough to hide her completely. As for airing the place out, she could perform a mild wind _jutsu_ , as scents carried easily on strong currents. She quickly gathers her things, including the scroll and petrified wood. The scroll and two of the prepped stones she keeps in separate pouches at her hip. The rest, she stores in her pack on an outer pocket, for easy access.

She quietly gathers the ashes of her fires in a neat bundle to dump into the stream and makes sure to scuff all marks of her fires. Considering the warrior's skill, he'd know the difference between a freshly made fire and one that had been lit days ago. She's not taking any gambles that he'd notice her recent habitation of the dell. Nothing assures her that this is where he will stay, but considering the openness of the ground around it, this is probably the only place they can remain after nightfall without being instantly seen from the top, should they be travelling East. Despite his loops and double-backs, the warrior had been making steady progress Eastward; Sakura can only assume that's his destination. As such, this will be the best place for him and his companions to spend the night. Sakura slinks toward the stream, careful not to leave any additional tracks in the dew-damp ground. She's already exhausted, but the eight hours of sleep helped quite a bit in restoring her. If she's very careful, her chakra should regenerate during the day. Somehow, her instincts are screaming that she needs to have more than a third of her chakra available for tonight. Sakura has never been one to question her gut-feelings, so she'll squirrel away whatever energy she can get. She'd been thinking about training with the _Hiraishin_ again today, but her current state and the fact that the warrior would most likely arrive in less than eight hours doesn't permit for a training state of mind. She dumps the ashes into the cheerfully running water, letting them swirl away before vigorously washing her face with the cold water. It's refreshing and Sakura sighs. She looks back into the dell, and heads inside. The sky has begun to light up, so she hoists her pack and cloak onto her back and decides to explore for a hiding spot. If the warrior will be staying here, and she has no _genjutsu_ she'll have to find a place to hide away from him and his companions without use of the technique. However, as she steps out of the sheltered dell, she recalls the stench of smoke. With quick hand seals, she summons the force of the wind, driving it into the hollow space and letting it flush out whatever smells remain. She looks down at herself and carefully considers the fact that she, too, stinks of smoke. As the wind returns, she stands in its path, letting the fierce gale wash over her skin and whisk the scent of smoke from her. If she has to hide from the warrior, she must remain as undetectable as possible. She grins, carefully considering the adventure, and sets out. For the first time in a week, Sakura feels energized.

As she walks around the mountain, she ponders his approach to the place. It would be unlikely that they would come toward the mountain from an easy to spot direction. If anything, he'll use the same woods she did to avoid being seen. They say the darkest place is underneath the lamp… Sakura ponders this, staring at the conical height of the mountain. She smirks, reminded that she's a ninja, and a pretty bad-ass one at that. Hiding from civilians doesn't always involve fancy techniques and tons of chakra. Instead, Sakura decides to climb. She'll be least visible at the top. And should the warrior decide to pay the summit a visit, she can always shimmy out of sight. To conserve her chakra, she goes on foot this time, using the last vestiges of shadows in the pre-dawn hours to remain unseen. She hums to herself as she walks, singing under her breath as she goes along. Her voice echoes softly in the whispers of the early morning, heard only by the nearby fauna.

" _The wind making the sound rises_."

* * *

It's not until noon that Sakura spots movement from the ground, observing quietly as five furtive figures steal into the shadows of the mountains. She leans out from her position at the edge, watching them as they reach the dell where she had been camping out for the last couple of days. To her surprise, two remain behind with the pony, as the warrior and two of the child-sized men follow the incline toward her hiding spot. Thankfully, she now has more than half of her chakra, and she could cast a genjutsu to remain out of sight. However, Sakura instead opts for lowering herself down the cliff face and finding foothold to remain close to the edge, yet unseen by any who peer out into the glade. Considering the plodding pace at which they make their way toward the top, it would take them about thirty minutes to reach her. So, Sakura patiently waits, playing a game of sorts by dropping stones over the edge toward the two little men on the ground, to see if they'll notice her. To her immense pleasure, they start bickering about who's tossing stones at whom, even as they explore the dell and make for the spring. The day's she'd followed them, the little men had been a source of irritation for her, for their slowness and their high maintenance. They're even fussier than Ino, who can't tolerate being out-of-doors for too long, despite her career. She's not entirely sure how the warrior has patience for their nonsense. She might not be able to understand the language, but she can hear the incessant whine in people's voice when they make a childish complaint. And the tiny men had that whine in their voices **constantly** during the two and a half days she'd stalked them.

As she watches the little men vanish into the sheltered hollow, she finally spots movement close-by. Silent as the night, Sakura drops down over the edge, nearly ten feet before catching herself against the rocky face of the mountain. Thanks to its irregular shape, she can stand rather comfortably on two irregular footholds without having to employ the use of chakra. The arrival of the warrior and the two tiny men are heralded from the north side of the hill by their heavy breathing. Sakura blinks in surprise, as she's barely heard footsteps at all. The warrior, she'd known he walked lightly. The little men are more silent than she'd originally thought, able to move with surprising noiselessness despite the rocks and gravel that would normally give anyone away. She hears them hold a conversation in normal tones, sounding rather weary and downtrodden. Then, one of them gives a cry, and Sakura has to smother her curiosity at the sound of three bodies hitting the deck almost simultaneously. She turns to look out toward the south, where the road lies, and finds what made one of them shout. Five moving figures in all, moving in opposite directions and heading for a collision with each other, were creeping along the road. Sakura reaches out with her senses and nearly recoils, staring horrified at the figures. It's the same robed creatures she'd met in the village, almost boiling in the same malevolent energy she'd felt before. Even from far away, she can feel them brushing almost abrasively against her own chakra, and she's somewhat startled by their number. She's glad she made six stones; if she'd only made one each for the three she'd met in the village, she'd have been seriously outnumbered. Now, though, she's starting to doubt that six would be enough. However, she's almost sure she won't have the energy to defend the warrior and his motley crew if she tries for some more seals today. Sakura grits her teeth, determined to get some sleep in before nightfall if there will be a battle. She's not sure why she's almost positive the figures won't make it here until then, but she's certain that they'll attack under the cover of night.

Above her, the warrior and the men-children have a hushed talk before retreating to the safety of the dell below. Sakura wonders if he will lead them out of the safety of the hill, but she's almost sure that if he does, it would mean certain death. At least in the sheltered hollow, they had the semblance of protection from the chill of the oncoming night and the eagle-eye view the creatures would get if the reached this top in time. Worse, the afternoon hours had arrived along with a wide cluster of clouds, making the journey more perilous, as evening would come sooner. Sakura jumps back onto the top, removing dust from her person before settling herself against one of the largest stones in the ruined circle. Even should the warrior decide to head out, she'll be able to track him whereabouts thanks to the seal on his back. She settles down for another three or two-hour nap, to wait for the cover of nightfall to join the party below. She can easily activate the _Hiraishin_ should there be trouble, but… after seeing the horsemen on the road, she's not sure she wants to be too far from them. She's asleep almost as soon as her head hits the stone, completely exhausted after the day's events.

She wakes up just before sundown and waits for the shadows to lengthen before she makes her way down the hill. The creatures are nowhere to be seen by this time, but Sakura knows they're still out there. If anything, they're much closer now; their dark, pervasive energy rebuffs her senses, almost overwhelming in their intensity. Sakura's surprised those things could have ever once been human. However, she's not impressed. The ninja of her village bred much stronger warriors than them, her teammates had been walking bombshells and the Akatsuki had boasted some of the most fearsome powerhouses of her time. She'd fought them, and she could certainly face these paltry creatures. Sakura makes a face out into the darkening expanse in mild defiance. Her chakra is strong and whole again, so she sits to eat the last two remaining flanks she had left in her pack. With the protein, she could transform it into energy while she waits for their attack. It makes her feel a bit too full, but Sakura knows that it'll give her body the chance to grow strong before their enemies arrive. She borrows the cloak of the shadows made by the hills, making her way toward the sheltered dell below, where she still felt the thrum of her seal, complacent and still.

As she arrives, she sneaks a peak into the dell, but remains outside. They have a fire going brightly and the warrior seems to be engrossed in a tale of some sort. She watches for an easy way in but decides it best to hide out by the entrance instead. The wind is not in her favor and should she steal into the shadows, she could be spotted. As she doesn't want to cast a genjutsu or walk along the roof of the shelter, she remains outside, listening to the rise and fall of the warrior's voice. There's a sudden discussion among them, making Sakura blink quickly, trying to follow the intonation of their voices. The warriors suddenly growls something, interrupting one of the tiny men, sounding worried. Sakura stares out into the night, watching warily for the approach of the enemies.

Her thoughts are derailed as from within, the warrior's hushed voice surges in song. Sakura starts in surprise, astounded that such a taciturn man could sing so beautifully and well. Whatever the song says, it sounds terribly lonely. It's long, of many words, probably telling a story of some sort. There were few songs in Konoha like that, only the very old songs Kakashi seems to like listening to on the radio had a similar feel. Sakura suddenly feels very young and very alone, aching for home. Aching for those days Kakashi would suddenly show up at the hospital with his little portable radio and sit in her office, merely keeping her company as she worked. For those times Sai would make simple paintings of foxes, cherry blossom trees, pines and a hoard of dogs. Of when Naruto would deign to visit Ichiraku Ramen and drag his teammates with him, even as he was dressed in full Hokage robes. She stares out, into the twinkling evening and feels alone once more. She grips the ground at her side tightly, reminding herself where she is and who she is. She's Haruno Sakura, med-nin extraordinaire, second only to Senju Tsunade; she's the prodigy of the Fifth and Sixth Hokage, destroying mountains with a pinky and healing just as much in the hospital. She's on guard duty to the only person she feels can help her, and she will not fail him. The warrior's voice then goes on talking, and Sakura supposes he might be explaining the song he'd sung. His voice is gentle, like that of a teacher, rising and falling at different points in his speech. Sakura dearly wishes she could understand him and tries to focus on the most repeated noises she can hear. The pronunciation is so very different from her own, and the warrior appears to have a sort of foreign accent, unlike the little men, whose accent is reminiscent of those in the hamlet they'd left behind. Perhaps the warrior is also a traveler, or perhaps the language he is using now is not his native tongue. He'd shown to be polylingual when originally speaking to her, and to Sakura it's remarkable. So she focuses on the sound of his voice and the different sounds he makes. There's a sudden commotion inside once the warrior falls silent, and Sakura sits up, her attention focused on the path leading away from the dell.

She watches the moon rise, and with it, arrive five shadows. Sakura stands, eyes alight with the Will of Fire. Behind her is the only way home, and these things are threatening it. She will _not_ stand for it. A smile steals across her face, slightly bloodthirsty. She doesn't waste time cracking her knuckles or pronouncing a battle cry. Her chakra flares, bright as the sun and just as fierce. The figures hesitate a moment, three of them especially. Good, they remember her. Sakura launches herself into the fray.

* * *

Frodo's slipped on the Ring, unable to resists its call as the five Riders stand at the lip of the dell. As they swoop in, standing threateningly along the entrance to their campsite, their passage is suddenly barred by the arrival of a figure who blazes like the sun. Frodo squints, trying to see who this new creature is. His vision is blurred by the strength of the shining light, and Frodo's need to keep the ring on his finger lessens. Whomever the bright warrior is, it's lithe and agile, weaving among the Riders with expert ease. The Riders avoid it, screeching horrendously when one of its shining blades manages to embed itself into their wispy figures. He removes the Ring, his hobbit curiosity overcoming the insidious whispers of the Enemy. He stares in awe at the creature who stands like the arrival of spring at the entrance to the sheltered hollow, keeping all five Riders entertained as it lashes out with small knives. Whatever light Frodo had been able to see is invisible to him now, but the figure he'd seen resplendent in the Sight given to him by the Ring is the same as the apparition now systematically culling the Riders one by one.

The moon stands behind her like a beacon, and Frodo has a brief glimpse of a pale face with green eyes before Aragon gives a war-cry, wielding twin flaming brand of wood in each hand. He joins the fight, keeping the Riders at bay with wide, precise swings of his fiery weapons. The Riders hiss at Strider, reaching for him with ugly knives. One of them manages to get behind him, and Aragorn barely has time to look over his shoulder before his vision is suddenly obscured by a billowing cloak. The creature is at his back in a flash, parrying the strike meant for his shoulder viciously. She aims a kick at the Black Rider, and Aragorn is once more surprised by her strength when the Rider flies back to slam against the side of a neighboring mountain. She's gone the next second, with a vicious uppercut that actually sends the stricken Rider up into the air like a ball. Only three Riders remain around them, and the creature's smiling with battle lust. The Rider she'd sent into the sky crashes down, and without even turning, she raises one leg perfectly and brings it down like the gavel of a judge declaring a death sentence. Aragorn wobbles on his feet as he drives away one of the Riders, the ground beneath him unstable from the aftershock of her heel kick. The nearest Rider seems to find a reason to fear the forest creature, as it suddenly begins to back away. Aragorn's attention is arrested from watching the creature unfold what looks like a scroll when the hobbits in the dell scream. Frodo falls, clutching his shoulder where an unnoticed Rider had made his way past their defenses and stabbed the hobbit. Sam catches his master, babbling uncontrollably. The Rider raises his knife again, preparing to remove the Ring from the bearer by force when his body is suddenly encased in the sweep of a scroll. The Black Rider screams in his own tongue, but it is cut by an icy voice of command. The creature stands before the Rider, eyes furious, with a stone cupped between her hands as they form a symbol. She speaks once more and tosses the stone at the Rider. There's a muted flash, like a light swallowed inwards, and the Rider is gone; the scroll laying on the ground wrapped around the stone the creature had thrown. She bends over to pick it up, deliberate and slow. She holds two stones in her hands now, tosses both in the air as her hands flash, and breathes fire. The three remaining Riders, to Aragorn's shock, suddenly writhe and scream, turning tail as fast as their legs would carry them. Ashes fall upon the ground, but the forest creature is already gone, running faster than any human can behind the fleeing Riders.

However, she doesn't notice when one of them, the one she'd punted into the mountain, slithers in from behind, raising a small, black knife to her back. " _Tuilérë_!" Aragorn screams, finally putting a name to the creature who is, apparently, doing her best to defend them. She turns a fraction of a second before the blade strikes her neck… and is gone. Aragorn steps forward, raising both blazing batons to fight off the Riders and find his unexpected ally, when a gentle cough interrupts him. He turns and is surprised to see the creature standing behind him, watching him apprehensively. He sees not the warrior who'd slammed a Rider a near mile from where she'd stood with a single kick. He doesn't see the assassin who seems to have written history in these few moments by killing two Riders, including the King. Instead, he sees a girl, a young woman, with wide green eyes that are full of worry. That emotionless killing machine he'd seen in the forest is gone. This creature, this destroyer of worlds, is but a girl.

Aragorn can't help by be baffled by this change.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 12,370**

 **As it has been twice now that people have asked me if Gandalf will have "spells" for Sakura so the language barrier will drop… I have a question for you, the reader:**

 **Do I look like I'll be taking the easy way out in this story?**

 **Because no, no I will not. That hiccup is there to stay, so Sakura will have to learn a whole new language. And Aragorn will probably learn Japanese just as fast, considering the dude's polylingual. It'll be a challenge but...** **IMMA TAKE THOSE CHALLENGES AND SO WILL THEY. Sakura's a big girl, she can take it. It's why she's the one I picked to drop face-first (quite literally, if you remember her wounds) into Middle-Earth.**

 **So, get ready. Because all of you are facing those challenges with me. And I am eternally grateful for it. If it weren't for all of those wonderful reviews, this huge-ass chapter would have sat in the same place in my laptop until it stank. So, thank you! Please don't forget to review!**

 **I have an exam in a week, so I won't be updating for at least two more weeks. I apologise for the wait, but real life decided to butt in. I still love and will still happily write more for this story, just be patient, please!**

 **(Sakura's singing GO! By Flow. Just had to do it.)**


	6. Healer

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: Some unexplainable ninja-ness in the eyes of the people of LotR.**

 **Much shorter chapter, promise. I wanted the Battle of Weathertop to take place (at LAST), but I also wanted to establish the** _ **Hiraishin**_ **more credibly. What's a girl to do?**

 **An anonymous reviewer said I should cater to my audience. Frankly, I'm of the opinion that ffnet is so large that you'll find a story for every taste and everyone. If this story isn't for you, I'm not going to modify or change it for you. See, I write for me and only me. I dedicate all of my writing to my wonderful readers (I'm looking at you,** _ **SimpleCompromise**_ **), but I write exclusively for** _ **my**_ **own pleasure and delight. The lengthy, detailed and often mundane writing is here to stay. It's my ode to the greatest fantasy writer of all times. Lord of the Rings was not meant for everyone. It's hard to read and often sluggish; but I love it all the same. I have so far found many like-minded people among the throng of the readers in ffnet. If it's not to your taste, well, there are more stories out there for you. If that's not enough, you may feel free to write your own, as I did. I hope I don't come off as rude, because that's** _ **not**_ **it. Everyone has their own taste, and that's respectable; so please respect mine.**

 **I know the first part of the last chapter was dry, but Sakura is going to be seen as a** _ **GOD**_ **in the LotR universe. At least, you and I know that she is not. She's a girl, she's lost and she wants to go home. I won't focus exclusively on the exchanges between her and Aragorn, because we aren't there yet. Nor will they only fight enemies, because that's not all that happens in LotR. In fact, it's the least of what happens in the books. In the movies, sure, but you're missing out on the books. You'll get songs, you'll get plodding through kingdom come, you'll get many, many meals and more. There are readers asking me to dumb-it-down, and that upset me deeply. This is Lord of the Rings, mate. If anything, you should ask for me to go even deeper. People who tell me they started reading the books thanks to my story make me so unbelievably happy. Feel the love, feel the Tolkien, feel the Middle Earth! That's what we're celebrating! Join me and fall for the universe that made every other fantasy novel take flight. Tolkien shaped dragons! He made new languages! He created an entire world out of Eru Ilúvatar, music and the blank side of a student's exam! Hop on the bandwagon, dear reader! I'm here, waving my hands wildly and waiting for you.**

 **Oh, yeah. About how easy the fight was last chapter? That was intentional. It's how it plays out in the movie and books, actually. Frodo stabs the Witch-King and he flees like a total wuss-puss; because it had been thousands of years since anyone had even** _ **touched**_ **him. Plus, the Wraiths were completely convinced they'd get to Frodo, and thus the Ring, due to the effect of the blade that harmed him. They hadn't counted on Aragorn (being boy-King) being able to fight off the effects long enough for him to get Frodo (and the Ring) to Elrond.**

 _ **Makar**_ **is a Battle God in olden-Quenya, which Frodo knows because Bilbo loves the languages of the Elves.** _ **Senshi**_ **means warrior in Japanese. I am SO creative.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five  
** **Healer**

From inside the hollow, Frodo gives a cry, his hand over his shoulder. The creature gives Strider a fleeting look of pleading before heading inside. The hobbits crowd around the ring bearer, unsure of this new arrival. Aragorn asks them to let her through, and Merry and Pippin fall back. Sam holds his master and stares distrustfully at this woman who approaches. The firelight gives them a better view of her features, beautiful and elven, with wild colors that have even Samwise goggling. Frodo watches her approach, his tearful eyes tracking her movements. He's near delirious from fever, but everyone hears the word that ekes past his lips as he watches this creature move toward him with fluid grace. In the haze of pain, he's able to see the shimmer of pure, crackling energy that hovers just beneath her skin. She is bright from within, like a star brought down to earth, a glorious **God**. Her eyes are vibrant and watchful, staring into his wound as though trying to read it like a book. " _Makar_ …" he says, his eyes wide with wonder. In the hush of the dell, it's the only noise that echoes in the shelter. Strider turns back toward the entrance, wary of the return of the enemy. Already, the forest creature has proven she means them no harm. If anything, twice now she's fought in their defense, as though she'd appointed herself their protector. As he replays the memories of the fight, Aragorn's rather glad she's chosen to side with them, instead of against them. The cracks made by her previous kick it are stark in the moonlight, like a spider's web in deep grooves drawn by large claws. He's never seen anything like it, not even in the hands of the Enemy. From the stories Gandalf and Elrond would tell, which were many over the course of his life, Strider could not recall any creature in Middle Earth who could do what she does. Battle God, Frodo had called her… the hobbit couldn't have named her more aptly.

Aragorn stands staring out, with both flaming brands still in his hands. Though the Riders have retreated for now, he doesn't doubt they could converge on his party again. In fact, judging by what he can see of Frodo's wound, they'll probably hound them for miles. The Riders probably had not expected to be resisted and had thus retreated when faced with a force the likes of which they'd never seen. He considers leaving in search for _Athelas_ , but he cannot leave while the forest creature is among them. The hobbits would not trust her, and neither does he. There's a sudden shout behind him, and he turns to find two of the creature by Frodo. One of them seems to be standing guard, keeping the hobbits at bay with a knife in her hands. The other is kneeling by the fallen hobbit, a slim, silver blade in her hand. Aragorn starts forward, horrified, but then he sees she's cutting with gentle sweeps into Frodo's shoulder. His clothes have been expertly folded back from the wound and she's working entirely by firelight. She stops slicing into Frodo's wound, pours water out of a canteen at her hip onto it and holds her hand above the wound, her eyes glazed and seemingly glowing with an inner light. The water, which she'd poured, suddenly enters the wound, disappearing completely to the shock of everyone around. The water then begins to emerge as she withdraws her hand, containing the red taint of blood, the black taint of what looks like poison, and the broken point of the blade used to wound the hobbit. She carefully extracts this and tosses it into the far corner of the dell, now using her other hand to pass over the wound. Aragorn almost drops his weapons when the gaping cut silently and neatly mends under her touch.

The creature sits back on her heels, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The second version of her keeping the hobbits at bay suddenly vanishes in a puff of smoke, making all three hobbits reach out and tentatively touch the space she had occupied in wonder. She stands, speaking in her own strange tongue, as she goes over to the stream to wash her hands. She comes back towards them, drying her hands and her slim blade with a small towel. The blade and towel vanish under her cloak as she stands staring at them for a moment, considering what to do. Merry breaks the awkward silence, completely in awe. "How'd she _do_ that?" He blurts out, making both Aragorn and the forest creature wince. "How'd she _do_ all of that? I saw her disappear and reappear faster than I could blink! And her hair! Pink, is it? Lovely!"

Aragorn approaches her, finally leaving his weapons by the fire. He holds both hands aloft, to show he's unarmed, but she still watches him warily. He notes that she's positioned herself in a place where she can easily make a break for the exit, yet still faces him willingly. She's got her eyes on his chest, though, gauging whether or not he'll draw his sword. Her wariness is reflected in his eyes, as he isn't entirely sure what to make of this creature, this spirit of untold strength, who can hurt as well as heal. " _Tuilérë_ ," he says in a firm voice, "did you come to help us?" She watches him in askance, so he repeats himself once more. Her brows swoop down and her head cocks ever so slightly to the side, as if in question. Her lips twitch, and she repeats for him, in an imperfect accent. " _Tuilérë_ ," as though trying to wrap her tongue around the name Aragorn had given her. She repeats it a second time, in a questioning tone. Before Aragorn can say anything, Merry pops up by his side, staring in awe at this woman who looks like spring suddenly decided to rise from the earth and walk on two feet.

"Is she a Goddess?" he asks in a loud voice, and the creature suddenly looks off to the side, her eyes glittering fiercely. Strider reacts instantly, unsheathing his sword as he turns to face the entrance once more. By the time he's turned, she's there at the entrance, standing between them and danger like a guardian spirit. Her back is somehow a powerful shield, as she stares out into the night with a weapon drawn. Unlike the knives she'd held before, this one has a white sheet wrapped around it, but before Aragorn can get a good look, she tosses it expertly and vanishes in a flash of pink. He stares, aghast. In the past, he'd at least see a whisper of movement as she leaned forward, an afterimage of sorts, following just slow enough for him to spot, even if he couldn't trace her trajectory. This time, though, she seems to have disappeared through thin air. The hobbits have already run to the entrance before he can hold them back and are pointing excitedly. The darkness of night doesn't allow for them to get a good look, but the hobbits report having seen her moving through the glade like an apparition. Frodo groans, drawing the entire party to his side. Aragorn can tell that his color is much improved by the creature's attention, even as his fever has yet to break. Strider suspects that the poison of Mordor had not been allowed too far into his body, but enough to make him somewhat ill. It worries him, anyway, so he asks the hobbits to stay put as he heads out to search for _Athelas_. Samwise stares at him mistrustfully, but the hobbits agree that getting the herb to improve Frodo's health is of paramount importance. The hobbits are worried about the return of the Goddess; after all, she basically butchered Frodo's shoulder while he writhed in her grip. Samwise is still so shaken, he keeps running a dirty hand over the newly healed skin of his master's once-wrecked shoulder.

"Stay here, stay quiet and don't make any noise." Aragorn warns, sheathing his sword. "If _Tuilérë_ should come back, do not engage her. Leaver her to me." The hobbits nod solemnly, even Peregrin. They'd seen what she could do. They'd seen her jump from one place to the next in less than a second. They'd seen her kick a Ring Wraith like a ball. They'd seen her break the ground as though it were made of eggshells. They had even witnessed the apparent death of the unkillable Witch-king of Angmar. Worse, they'd seen her heal a gaping wound with her bare hands. The hobbits were well and truly afraid, even if their curiosity would have them come closer than caution would permit. Samwise, especially, looked thoroughly spooked. Things were different around these parts than in the Shire. Folk were not allowed to stomp on the ground and cause earthquakes; that was unnatural for the plump hobbit. He made a private oath to keep as far from the creature as possible. Aragorn might give it a pretty name in Elven, but he thought Frodo's moniker fit best. It is a beast, a monster, a fighting God… there was nothing human about it, however pretty it may be.

Aragorn nods, assured the hobbits would stay away from the creature, should she return. He thinks it's unlikely, given that she's so far stayed out of their way unless they were in danger. Still, he couldn't help the feeling that she'd run outside because she'd sensed something. During their meeting in the woods, she'd shown him that her senses were much sharper than his. She'd spotted the scavengers long before he'd become aware of their presence in the woods, much less in his immediate area. Should her senses truly be so far above his own, he has no doubt that she went outside to face a threat to their small traveling party. A threat he had yet to sense with his own abilities. It irks him a little, to be sure. As a Ranger, one who grew up around Elves, his senses were much sharper than most, even those among the _Dúnedain_. To have someone of a higher caliber among his companions is a new experience for Aragorn, one he takes as a challenge. He looks out of the dell into the moonlit plains, searching for the path she took. As before, her tracks are nonexistent, an impressive feat. He needs to head a ways south to find the weed he'll need to help stave off the poison of the Morgul-blade. If she's out there facing the Enemy, he wants to be there. He wants to fight by her side and defend his charges. The Wraiths turned tail toward their master to the south, so Strider can try to follow their trails as he searches for _Athelas_. He masters himself enough to avoid charging full-tilt out onto the well-lit plains, instead slinking carefully with his eyes following the sparse tracks made by the three remaining Riders. The plains are nearly identical for miles, making Aragorn grow weary as he follows the trail that is, unfortunately, growing cold. About five miles out from the dell, he spots the indent of horse hooves. The large, heavy-set kind of the wretched breed the Riders so carefully bred in Mordor. If they're on horseback, he'd never reach them. The Riders would first run their horses dead than let _Tuilérë_ catch them, if Strider's any judge. As he starts inspecting the ground at his feet, searching for the telltale spindly leaves of _Athelas_ , Strider becomes aware of a change in the air, a warmth on his back. He freezes… then turns.

Bright green eyes watch him carefully from the gloom beneath the black hood, well beyond sword's length. For the first time since their meeting in the Chetwood Forest, Aragorn faces her alone.

* * *

Sakura stares at the warrior, waiting for his reaction. She'd felt the sudden intense energy boiling from the south, calling out to the robed figures like a siren song. Sakura shudders as she remembers its intrusive feel, brashly shoving her own chakra like an elephant trying to pummel her to the ground. Instead of fighting it, Sakura had instantly doused her chakra and given chase, only letting loose whatever strength she needed for the activation of the _Hiraishin_ seal. Something told her that she didn't want this unknown force recognizing her as a threat. Of course, she'd have to deal with the remaining three robed creatures that had attacked, so she'd followed them. If they blabbed about her to this strange, yet powerful enemy… Sakura didn't even want to think about that. She wasn't in this land to get involved in whatever problems were broiling among the different factions of their people. She wanted to go home. However, it seemed that the creatures had, at some point, jumped on horseback. If she wanted to catch up, she'd have to spend more chakra than she was willing to spare. Her efficient use of the source allowed for her to get away from the battle with over half of her reserves intact, but she was sure she'd have to face the remaining three with more than just a kunai in her hand and a waning reserve of chakra. Plus, she wasn't sure she had it in her to seal three of the things in their prepared containers. It had taken large chunks of her chakra to seal even one, consuming most of what she spent during battle. Sealing _jutsu_ required a deep well of chakra, like Jiraya's strength or Naruto's infinite well of _Kyuubi_ -supplied chakra. Someone with her meagre reserves had no business in seals. Considering her options coolly, she had stopped her chase. She must draw up a better plan to face those creatures, perhaps learn more about them. She had thought to find the warrior and at least learn what they were called and how many of them she should prepare for. She raises her head, finding her clone hovering close buy. A tell-tale dark shape swooped across the moon, shocking her. If her clone was out there, then that meant the warrior was, too. Sakura had sent out feelers for the _Hiraishin_ she'd placed on the warrior… and been surprised he was only a few miles north from where she stood.

Thus, now here she stands, watching him warily as he seems to realize she's joined him. He turns to face her, his hand on his sword hilt. She sees the recognition in his eyes when he spots her, though he doesn't relax. She can't exactly blame him. Judging from how he and his companions had reacted to even something as mundane as a stab wound healing, they'd never seen anything like her before. He nods and says the word he'd screamed at her in battle. She supposes it's a greeting, or perhaps a name he's given her for lack of a better term. Sakura quite likes it, it has a musical sound to it that is not present in her language. So, in return, she offers him a title in her own language, gesturing toward him and bowing slightly.

" _Senshi_ -sama," she says in a deferential tone, doing her best to show respect. The warrior seems stunned and blinks for a moment. She sees him process the words, repeat it out loud, then point at himself. Sakura helpfully repeats the word when he does, which makes the warrior's lips twitch in what could have been a smile. She surprised by how young it makes him look for a moment, almost roguish. She files that knowledge away in her head, trying to keep neutral. Carefully, he points over her shoulder with the hand not hovering over his weapon. He says a few words slowly, making Sakura tilt her head as she tries her best to process. There's a question in there, she thinks, listening to the inflection of his voice. Perhaps he's asking about the creatures who fled? Seeing as he's pointing southward, he might be. She wonders if the shake of the head means the same thing in his world, she could try to tell him they lost her by making an "x" with her arms? It's a universal gesture back home, surely it has to mean something here. Hoping she isn't misunderstand him or insulting him; she raises both arms slowly. Sakura makes an "x" over her chest using her arms, gently shaking her head from side to side. She'd seen him nod before, so head-movement had to be common in his culture. Sakura just desperately hopes it's not something obscene.

The warrior stares at her for a moment before it dawns on him, whatever her message is. When he looks relieved, Sakura's glad they managed to find some common ground. Their worlds might not be so different after all if body language carries through so reliably. She thinks for a moment, and speaks very slowly, pronouncing everything carefully. "The creatures fled south, toward _something_." She half turns her body, pointing south for a moment before making vague hand motions to represent the 'thing' she'd felt lurking like a fat toad in the same direction. The warrior's face grows thunderous and he glares at the direction the creatures fled like it afforded some personal insult. His dark eyes find hers and they glitter with intelligence. Sakura's not surprised to see the man's as sharp as his sword. Growing a bit wary, Sakura steps back a bit to fully face him again, her entire body tense. His brows knit at her change in demeanor and Sakura bites back the urge to groan. She'd let her instincts get the better of her and she'd moved without thought. Diplomacy of this level requires more brainpower than fighting for someone as well-trained as Sakura, and she's so alert that even his smarts make her battle-ready. Her mouth twists, and she grins sheepishly, blushing vaguely at her own silliness. At the sight, the warrior seems to grow surprised, blinking owlishly at her in the moonlight. Sakura starts and drops the smile, covering her mouth with a hand. She hadn't meant for that to slip!

" _Tuilérë_ ," the warrior says again, almost reverently. He then holds up a finger, which Sakura takes to mean as numeric, he's asking her to look up, or he's asking her to wait. To her surprise, he then starts looking about him on the ground, observing the reeds, weeds and grass around his feet. She stays stock still, not wanting to disturb him as he appears to be looking for something. Sakura decides to wait, wondering exactly how she was going to tell this story to her friends and family in the future. Naruto won't let her finish for laughing, that's for sure.

* * *

Stunned by the sunny, girlish smile that stole across the creature's face, Aragorn is arrested by the ethereal beauty of this being. It surprises him, this apparition, and Aragorn cannot help calling her in amazement by the moniker he'd elected to give her. It suits her, this spirit born of the grass and flowers, to be named after the months of Spring following the harsh winter. She's their protector and their savior, whether they want her to be or not. Clearly, she's trying to meet him half-way, even if they're still wary of each other's intentions and strengths. After having watched her in battle, Aragorn's sure he's not even seen half of what she can really do. Yet here she is, trying her best to communicate what happened with the Ring Wraiths with helpful pointing and expansive gestures. If anything, the Ranger is rather flattered. So, he holds up a finger for her to wait, hoping it means the same thing to her as it does to him. When she does as he asked, standing back but staying in his line of sight, Aragorn takes it to mean she's willing to stay. She's already gone through so much trouble protecting them, and he wants to know exactly what it was that she did to the Witch-king of Angmar. In the era he'd towered tyrannically over his subjects, not one person had managed to do more than weaken him; if that. It was said he could be killed by no man. It takes Aragorn a brief moment to compose himself when he realizes the irony that this slip of a girl, who is barely as tall as his shoulder yet holding the strength of ten men, is not, indeed, a _man_.

Perhaps all the Witch-king had needed to be killed was to face a woman in battle.

As Aragorn keeps his head down in search for the weed he'll need for Frodo's recovery, he tries to keep _Tuilérë_ 's feet where he can see them. To be sure, if she didn't want to be seen, she wouldn't be. She'd followed them all the way from the Chetwood Forest and he hadn't spotted her once; her skills at avoiding detection were formidable. Still, it makes him feel much safer knowing her exact location. Considering he'd seen her replicate herself, it's something of a cold comfort. He wonders if all women in battle would be quite so fearsome. A human woman would never amount to quite as much as their male counterparts, but elven female warriors were often also witches of considerable power. The Lady Galadriel, for example, was said to be a formidable swordswoman and excellent shot. Let it never be said that dwarven women did not fight alongside their men! You could never tell them apart from them, anyway. In fact, Elves often joked that there were no women among dwarves. The little devils, the merriest of the Elves would say, simply popped out of the ground like belligerent daisies. Only because he manages to find _Athelas_ at that exact moment is Strider able to contain the bubbling of sudden laughter from his throat. He has not been among his fellow Elves in a long time, but he dearly misses their company. Though somber-looking, Elves were a cheery people. In times of danger and darkness, Elves would still find a good reason to laugh or sing. Out alone since his search for _Gollum_ , Aragorn very much wishes to return to Rivendell.

He grimly picks the weed, holding it up to moonlight to confirm he's not mistaken. The sweet, refreshing and near pungent smell coming off the plant consolidates his pick. He almost yelps when _Tuilérë_ is at his side like a ghost, examining the plant in his hand. She's looking incredibly puzzled, as she delicately sniffs the intense scent and lightly touches the green leaves. It's as close as she's ever come to him, and Aragorn tries to remain as still as possible. He feels as though a large predator has meandered too close to his personal space, fangs by his neck. There's the same warmth he'd felt before, almost suffocating, as though a shroud has been thrown on top of him. She notes his discomfort and takes two careful steps back, looking especially contrite. He shrugs, trying to dispel the sensation that a warg just had its jaws around his jugular.

She points meekly at the plant in his hand, saying something that sounds like " _ohjinomasu_ " in a questioning tone. Blinking rapidly, it takes Aragorn a moment to realize she's asking him about _Athelas_. Though it's not quite as well known now among the common folk that this plant can cure many ailments, especially in the hands of Elven healers, he'd never met anyone who was ignorant of it. The fact that she was asking him puzzled him exceedingly. _Athelas_ may not be from Middle-earth, but everyone knew it by its common title… kingsfoil. Who doesn't know about kingsfoil? Aragorn stares in horror at the creature, realizing exactly how foreign she really was. He'd thought she was perhaps a spirit or an invocation, perhaps someone cursed by a wizard. He'd never thought she could be a foreigner. Strider forces himself to focus on the task at hand, rather than thinking about the ramifications of a race from a different land who can break the earth with a dainty foot and heal with the pass of their hand. " _Athelas_ ," he says, hefting the weed in his hand before stowing it into his cloak. "Kingsfoil." _Tuilérë_ raises a brow, clearly confused by the two words, but remains silent. Aragorn is rather thankful she does not press the issue. He gestures for her to follow, glad to have _Athelas_ before dawn broke the horizon. Aragorn suspects the Riders would not be coming back that night, but he's anxious to get back to little Frodo. The hobbit had proved resilient, and the healing _Tuilérë_ had performed would perhaps fortify the young hobbit. However, he could not be certain to what extent the poison of Mordor had spread in his veins.

A hand claps onto his shoulder, stunning Aragorn. He half-turns, sees for a moment the twitch of a sinister smile, when his entire world turns upside down.

* * *

Sakura does her level best to keep a stoic face, only just managing through sheer practice to keep her cool. It wouldn't do to howl with laughter at how the warrior is wheezing only two steps away from her as he tries to recover from the rather vicious activation of the _Hiraishin_. Mercifully, she'd stopped just before they reached the dell entirely, to give him space to breathe away from his raucous charges. She didn't have to put him through the grinder, of course, but Sakura's more sadistic streak had been enlivened by his lack of response to her questions about the weed he'd picked. As a medic, she was very interested in the properties of different plants, especially if they could be used for the benefit or injury of another person. The weed in his hand had reminded her of prince's pine, a common healing plant (and favorite of Shizune); it even had a bit of a likeness to basil, which Tsunade- _shishou_ often used in her antivenom concoctions. He could have at least mimed the effect for her or something. She supposes it's for the man-child who had been stabbed, but she can't be sure. _Senshin_ - _sama_ could have done her the courtesy of at least explaining it a little. She dismisses the rather petulant thoughts with a shrug and puts her _Hiraishin_ kunai back into her pouch. In retrospect, she should have dropped her pack in the dell for an easy return, but she'd been so surprised by the evil chakra-like energy from the south, she hadn't thought about it at all. Plus, something told her that if she left her things anywhere near the tiny man-children, they'd look through every nook and cranny before she came back.

She doesn't turn her head when she spots the dark rising of the warrior at her side. She's done him a favor by cutting his journey so much shorter, by at least two hours. The warrior still looks harassed and somewhat stunned, and she doesn't blame him. Sakura at least had some experience with displacement _jutsu_ when she'd first used _Hiraishin_. She rather suspects that the warrior has never been faced with _jutsu_ before. Sakura is actually rather impressed that he didn't toss up his cookies or something equally disagreeable. She can't help the small smirk that steals across her face for a moment, and the warrior scowls when he sees it. He seems to realize she'd done that on purpose, and though he seems to have trouble adjusting to the idea that he's just crossed over five miles in a few seconds. Sakura says nothing, gesturing for him to enter the dell ahead of her. He does so, giving her one last glare before finding his way back to the little men huddled around their fallen brethren by the fire. Sakura can hear the hushed conversation and wishes mildly that she could at least understand what is happening. She can tell, though, that one of the little men is especially frightened. His voice rises and falls with a panicked tone, and she wonders if he's terrified of her. She had come into the battle with her least showy techniques for the sake of not showcasing her skills too much. Considering how people in these parts don't even have proper hair colors, her abilities are probably a bit otherworldly for them. She really shouldn't have healed the fallen man-child, but Sakura is a medic. She can't help it when she hears someone in pain.

Her thoughts are interrupted when the warrior pops his head outside the sheltered hollow, gesturing again for her to follow by waving his hand inwards. Sakura's lips twitch humorlessly at the idea that she's being summoned like a dog. Still, she does as she is told. She doesn't plan to stick around with the party, but she needs information on those robed figures if they'll continue to be a threat. She comes in, almost startled by the intense stares from the little men. They've been marshaled into a single file, lead by the warrior. Only one remains lounging by the fire, his pale, drawn face watching her just as intently. Her brows knit as she looks at the one she'd healed, confused. When she'd extracted the tip of the broken knife, it had been doing odd things to his body. Strangely, the knife tip had been attempting to dissolve. Sakura had taken great care to extract as much as she could from his bloodstream, but she hadn't been able to scour his entire system of it. It had acted as a sort of poison, though not one she'd ever encountered. If Tsunade- _shishou_ had asked her to explain it, Sakura could have only said that it didn't seem to be affecting _just_ his body. Whatever energy, or chakra, the tiny man possessed, it had been dimmed by the substance. As though it had been eating away at his soul. Sakura is almost sure that it had been slowly turning his life-energy into that of the creatures that had stabbed him. As the creatures seemed to have been once human, Sakura can feel a sort of hypothesis forming in her brain. She puts it aside, though, when the warrior steps forward. He speaks, then touches his chest. He does so twice, saying the same word. "Aragorn," he says, patting his own chest. "Aragorn."

Sakura realizes with some amusement he's making introductions.

He goes on to introduce the rest of the little men, and they take turns saying what Sakura can only assume are their names. She doesn't repeat them, though the last one with the wildly curly hair, seems disappointed about it. One of them, the fattest among the group, appears to be watching her with thinly veiled contempt. Sakura raises a brow in his direction, tapping the tip of her foot against the ground and almost grinning when it cracks satisfactorily. The little fat man falls backwards in his haste to get away from her. Sakura knows she should control her temper, but she's never liked open hostility. She's a ninja, she prefers to slit the throats of her enemies under the cover of darkness and friendliness. Only wild children like Naruto played with open hostility, but well, Naruto's pretty much unkillable. From the fire, the wounded little man speaks up, saying in a gentle voice. "Frodo, Frodo Baggins." Somehow, Sakura's surprised by his relief to own up to his own name. Sensible blue eyes watch her under a dark fringe, and Sakura allows herself to smile slightly. Those wide blue eyes, so like those of her best friend, blink in surprise. Slipping past everyone gathered, Sakura kneels before the tiny man in repose by the fire. There seems to be a bit of a scuffle from the group behind her, but the warrior holds back the advance of the rest of the tiny men.

She reaches up, touching the little Frodo's face with her right hand. He's watching her, his youthful face marred by the blue bruises of poor sleep under his eyes. Sakura allows her chakra to flow into him once more, searching for the dark influence of the poison that came from the knife. She allows herself a small growl when she notes it's now entirely poisoning whatever form of chakra he has, and not affecting his body in any way. That, at least, she'd been able to prevent. Like she'd told the warr- **Aragorn** , when she'd first healed the tiny man, she'd managed to avoid allowing it to infiltrate his arm or circulatory system. She hadn't been able to stop it from bleeding into the pathways housing his energy. As a medic, she had very little experience working with chakra pathways. Only a Hyuuga would have been able to isolate the poison then extract it, using their famous eyes to do so. For now, however, she can simply help soothe the ache in his shoulder and fortify his system to keep him warm.

"You'll be fine," she tells Frodo, giving him her best smile. She pats his cheek gently, pulling her chakra out of him as she cuts contact. The little man leans forward, following her hand, then jerks to a stop with a look of total surprise. There seems to be a hurried conversation and she quickly stands back, removing herself from the firelight as the rest of the little men crowd around Frodo. Already, she's forgotten most of their names, as they all seemed to have frightfully long ones. Aragorn is sitting by the fire, placing a pot with water over the flames. A knife is settled across his knees and he's singing to it softly. Sakura blinks in surprise when his song makes his chakra come alive, swirling around the blade over his legs. The blade seems to pulse darkly, trying to shove the shimmering energy crowding around it. However, it's too weak, falling prey to the warrior's energy-manifestation. At the same time, the vague taint settled into Frodo's life-energy seems to grow slightly fainter. He withdraws the plant from his cloak and she's speechless that the plant, too, seems to have reacted to his song. Sakura stares, aghast. She'd never seen anyone use a song quite like that, not even Sound ninja. She watches him crush the leaves of the weed he'd picked in the field, releasing a minty aroma, then drop the entire thing into the now boiling water. Sakura isn't sure exactly what is happening anymore. This world doesn't follow the rules of engagement, as she knows them in her own. When she'd sensed chakra, she'd thought it would be exactly the same as the one in her home. It's it some horror that she realizes it's not quite so clear-cut around these parts. Their chakra seems wilder, less refined; it's almost like magic, rather than chakra.

It takes every ounce of strength for Sakura not to run away. She's not capable of dealing with any of this! Like before, when faced with the expanse of an unknown world, terror nearly swallows her. Like before, there's a resounding response from the land around her. The grass beneath her feet suddenly shoots upwards, growing lush and curling almost comfortingly around her ankles. The hum of the forest sounds from the west, warm and welcoming in the waning shadows of the night. The mountains themselves, numerous as they are, join with a low rumble, like a distant avalanche of falling stones. Sakura focuses on these different sensations buffeting her senses, grounding herself in these alien, yet very lively landmarks. She's never been in place where the earth itself felt more alive than the people. She takes heart in this cacophony of silent noise, feeling it vibrate against her very soul. Sakura's a medic, she can roll with the punches. Not even magic can put a dent in her resolve. She takes a deep breath, watching under her lashes as the warrior washes the little man's shoulder with the warmed water steeped in the herb. There's a sharp, minty scent in the air that helps clear her head. Sakura falls into the welcoming mundanity of wondering if perhaps the herb would be more beneficial if a different method of preparation were used. She's already memorized how it looks and smells, so she's sure she can find it again to experiment… she stops short, recalling she has no equipment available. No one who would be interested in her findings, demanding a proper research paper sent to her desk, then sending it flying back awash in red ink of her corrections. Sakura holds onto the memories of her precious _shishou_ , unwilling to have the forest steal her emotions again. Instead, she uses it to solidify her resolve to return home. This is not where she belongs, she _must_ go home. This Aragorn, with the strange magic that he wields, could be her ticket back. With more determination than ever, she grimly promises to keep him safe, no matter what. This man was going to show her the way home, whether he wanted to or not.

The warrior gestures, making Sakura's head snap up instantly. The little men are settled around a fire, and he's built a second one a few feet away. Sakura almost smiles to see it's in the exact same spot she'd chosen for her own cooking fires and joins him as she's bid. As she sits, folding her legs beneath her neatly, she notes he sits cross-legged. It reminds her a little of her teammates, who could not sit properly to save their lives. She stares at the warrior, both of them remaining silent in the face of a peaceful coexistence. Sakura curses their inability to communicate, almost chastising herself for being so ignorant of languages. She suddenly thinks, astonished. Perhaps if spoken words would not do, and neither would written ones… body language could be taken into account, but drawings would also be mildly understood. She hunts around her body for a stick, and finally gives up. She brings out a _senbon_ , more willing to sacrifice the tiny weapon than a kunai. The warrior stiffens but grows puzzled when she starts doodling on the ground, in the only open patch of dirt without grass. To her best of her abilities, she draws the vague outline of the cloaked figures they'd just fought, then straightens. The warrior is staring at her drawing with an air of horrified puzzlement. Sai had always said that, apart from producing some of the finest diagrams of the human body, Sakura had all the artistic ability of a two-year-old. Well, to be more exact, she could be _bested_ in art by a two-year-old. Sakura's lips pucker, glaring at her own drawing. It looks vaguely like a ghost. One of the little men, the one with the curly hair, pops up and says something she cannot understand. At this, the warrior's expression seems to clear, and he sighs audibly. Sakura feels affronted. He nods and says very slowly. "Ring Wraiths." The medic stares at him and tries to mimic his exact words, struggling and managing " _ringu uraidus_ ". Despite her lack of perfect pronunciation, the warrior gives her a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically. Somewhat sure they're on the same page, Sakura holds up both hands with all of her fingers raised. She then begins to slowly lower each finger one by one, miming counting.

The warrior reaches out, asking her for the _senbon_ in her hand. Sakura obliges him, lending the slim weapon to Aragorn. He stares at it for a moment, marveling, before applying it to the same task she did. He slowly draws nine straight lines into the soil, saying a word per line; which Sakura takes to mean is how counting is done in this foreign place. She quietly commits them to memory and grows paler as the number goes above five. There were still more of them out there?

" _Nine_?" she asks incredulously, staring at the nine damning lines.

* * *

Aragorn is surprised when _Tuilérë_ suddenly takes out a slim, near-pencil like implement from her many pockets. It's clearly sharp, probably a weapon, though he's unsure how something like that could even be a formidable weapon. He doesn't doubt that the woman before him would use it with deadly efficiency, though. It almost makes him jump when she stabs the ground with it… then proceeds to draw what appears to be a floating sheet of sorts. He watches as two tubes seem to pop out of this sheet at roughly mid-height, and the sheet seems to have a sort of malevolent look about it. He stares at the completed product with something between horror and awe, trying to decipher the meaning to this message. Pippin ambles over, curious despite Aragorn's earlier warning to the hobbits to keep their distance from this meeting. He takes one look at the drawing and says promptly, "That's one of the Riders, innit?" Aragorn squints at it, realizing this representation could, indeed, be one of the Ring Wraiths. If looked at with a forgiving eye and holding your head slightly side-ways. It would be much easier for those all around if she knew the title the Riders were most known for. So, nodding, he says "Ring Wraiths" slowly, doing his best to pronounce each letter carefully. She repeats after him, somehow adding an extra "u" to ring and pronouncing the "th" sound more forcefully than necessary in wraiths. He's pretty sure she confused the "w" with a "u" as well, though he'd have to listen to her say it again to be certain. For her first time speaking Common, though, she's not hopeless. So he nods, trying to encourage her to keep trying to pronounce it correctly. However, she moves on, something clearly on her mind.

She holds up both hands, her expression a mask of concentration. She then begins to move her fingers in a way he's never seen anyone do, starting from her thumb and curling the rest one by one. She does this with both hands, her mouth moving silently as she does. Pippin is crouched to his left, watching intently, and Aragorn is startled to realize Merry has plonked down on his other side. It's Merry who speaks up this time, smiling triumphantly when he realizes what _Tuilérë_ is so carefully miming. "Is she counting? I think she's counting!" Pippin laughs cheerfully, nodding at what his friend had said. "Asking how many Riders there are, you think?" Aragorn wonders when this meeting between potential allies became a friendly evening game of charades. Understanding, he holds out a hand of her to give him the thin stick she'd used to draw. To his surprise, she doesn't hesitate to give it to him. Either she trusts him quite a bit or she's sure he cannot do her any damage with her own weapon. Unsure of what to make of this, Aragorn instead simply uses the stick to draw nine lines carefully into the dirt. As he does so, he counts aloud, hoping to teach her the numbers as they are known in Common. She seems to be listening intently, a perfect student, until the number goes beyond five. _Tuilérë_ stares at the nine lines he's drawn into the ground, looking vaguely ill at the implication. She says something in her own language, perhaps the word for nine, before holding one hand up again. With care, she lowers her right thumb and forefinger almost in his face, saying " _ichi_ , _ni_ " softly under her breath. She then waits, and Aragorn stares at her for a moment, realizing she's talking about the two that she killed. He wonders if perhaps she thinks that there were once eleven Riders. Blinking quickly, Aragorn hastily moves forward, crossing out two of the lines he'd drawn into the ground. She sighs heavily, looking at the lines drawn into the ground with renewed vigor.

She nods, then holds out her hand, palm up. Aragorn places the stick almost instantly into her waiting grip, glad to be rid of it. He's almost certain that if he'd kept it, the hobbits would have eventually gotten their hands on it. Just like… he suddenly exclaims, patting his pants down in search for the black knife Butterbur had given him. _Tuilérë_ has scooted away from him, rising into a half-crouch at his exclamation. He holds up a finger, asking her to wait, as he finally fishes the dark weapon from his cloak. He offers it, hilt first, and the pink haired woman gasps softly. She takes it into her hands and it vanishes entirely. He's pretty sure that was a trick, a sleigh-of-hand, as Gandalf often called it, but he hadn't even seen the knife move. Seeming to decide that their conversation has come to a close, the young woman raises her left arm toward the entrance of the sheltered dell, made light by the oncoming sunrise. It takes no more than a few seconds for a bird to fly in, a dark shape that alights onto her girl's outstretched hand. She transfers the bird onto her shoulder; Aragorn notes that it has a magpie's coloring, but little else. If anything, it looks more like a hawk or an eagle; a raptor of large wings, eyes of predatory gold and claws like knives. Unlike any bird he's ever seen, this one perches with great care, so as not to tear the flesh beneath its talons. _Tuilérë_ speaks to the bird in her own language, quick and succinct. To everyone's surprise, the bird open's its beak… and talks right back in the same language and voice. Aragorn had once met the giant Eagles, who spoke the language of Man as well as their own tongue; he'd never heard of a small-sized bird capable of speech, though. The pink haired woman nods and the bird takes flight, exiting the dell in a graceful swoop. She stands, removing the dust from her knees as she rises. She nods toward them, then, like before… vanishes in a swirl of leaves.

Aragorn's left agog. He sits, wondering if he will ever see an end to _Tuilérë_ 's abilities. A creeping voice in the back of his mind gives a resounding "no".

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 7,730**

 **I once spent an entire week without my voice. It's so frustrating when you can't talk to explain yourself properly. Aragorn and Sakura show impossible patience this time with their "Me, Tarzan; you, Jane" exchange. Since Naruto has very Westernized ninjas (they shrug, they nod and shake their heads, etc), it makes for some very helpful body language.**

 **Sakura says "** **Ō** **ji no matsu", which means prince's pine; it's the name of a plant that many people, through investigation, suspect was perhaps one among the many original inspirations for** _ **Athelas**_ **. I think it may have been basil, peppermint and King's Cure (another name for Prince's Pine). I'll try to avoid using Japanese, as I DO NOT SPEAK IT, but it needs to be used because I'm a geek and I wanted the language barrier.**

 **Yes, Sakura evilly dragged Aragorn via** _ **Hiraishin**_ **. If she can take a deer, she can take a Ranger.**

 **Forgive the sudden, random satire that you'll spot somewhere in this chapter. I was reading Terry Pratchett's Jingo and The Last Continent as I wrote this story. I got… carried away.**

 **Something about this chapter rubbed me the wrong way. I had it ready for** _ **WEEKS**_ **but I couldn't bring myself to post it. But alas, I edited as best as I could and there you have it. Feast your eyes on my mediocre writing! I hope it doesn't disappoint.**


	7. Changing Tides

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: a suspicious lack of Arwen… and much… much walking.**

 **I had the difficult choice of either the book-canon or film-canon for this part. Unfortunately, the beautiful Lady Arwen is barely introduced to us in the book as she is in film.** _ **SimpleCompromise**_ **, who is reading the books, will probably tell you what a great disappointment it is that Arwen's famous line of "a Ranger caught off his guard?" is entirely made up by the film-writers. Instead, the Elf who meets the party is Glorfindel, an Elf-lord sent by Elrond to retrieve the Ring-bearer safely to Rivendell. (Yes, this is my third shout-out to** _ **SimpleCompromise**_ **, whom I love with all of my heart.)**

 **As the story "When in Middle-Earth" follows the film-canon, I chose instead to follow book-canon. So it's Glorfindel whom you'll meet. I actually wrote two versions of this chapter, hence the wait, as I wanted to see what it would look like if I wrote Arwen. Unfortunately, I could not shake the idea of Sakura threatening Arwen for getting the drop on her Ranger… which was entirely too similar to the other story for me to be comfortable with it. I invite you to read that story as well, as it truly is very interesting and lovely. (And because my Sakura is so bloody thorough, she'd** _ **kill**_ **Lady Arwen for her troubles. Without a second thought or a warning. I can't kill Aragorn's heart, people. Especially when Aragorn can't even ask her to stop.)**

 **There was a reviewer who pleaded that some Sakura-Legolas should be taking place, but it won't. I actually thought about it at first, because I like the idea of the two of them getting together. However, in the context of the story and the way I have written Sakura… it would simply make no sense. Sakura is adamant to return to her home. She would not make any romantic attachments to anyone. If anything, Sakura's very mission-minded in this story; a ninja on a mission would not do anything unprofessional. And Legolas is living a dangerous time, practically the end of his world as he knows it. He gave up his people to help his precious friend in this most turbulent time. There will be love, but it won't be the romantic type. May I suggest Jaguar Batter as the romantic alternative? It's a good story, if a bit slow on updates, but decent romance is happening there to please anyone.**

 **And if anyone is willing, I'd be very interested in reading other stories that tie to mine in any way whatsoever. I'd love it. Please do it. Fanart is welcome, too.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6  
** **Changing Tides**

Sakura doesn't waste any time after she gives more chakra to her clone, in order to ensure its survival for at least another two weeks. Until it runs out of chakra, even if she's unconscious, her clone will stay fully formed. She'll be needing it's aid in the next couple of days, as the small company seems to be in dire need of reaching a much safer place… and she cannot stalk them every step of the way. Her clone will be able to keep an eye on them during the day, while she sleeps and creates more seals for the remaining enemies. For now, she'll make sure there are no waiting surprises on the large road she'd found to the south, in case those "Ring Wraiths" are waiting in ambush. As there's no point in saying goodbye to people who cannot understand her, Sakura only just glances at the young man-child sitting forlornly by the other fire. His big, blue eyes search hers, almost beseechingly. She wonders if perhaps he wants her to stay, or if he needs reassurance of safety. Something clenched in his fist draws her eye, and for a moment, she hears an insipid, rasping voice slithering in the air. It's energy, pure malevolent energy being emitted by whatever he holds so tightly to his chest. Sakura makes a quick chakra blade in her hand and slices the energy away from her. It crumbles, drawing away from her in horror, and slides back to its protective trinket. It's a ring, she sees as he opens his hand, glittering gold and seductive. Sakura gives it a scornful glance, before decisively turning her body away. She shoots one last, lingering look at Frodo, and gives him a small, encouraging smile. If he's putting up with that voice on a constant basis, the little man-child is more formidable than he seems. She wonders if perhaps she should have spoken more often with Gaara on his experience with the Shuukaku and its voice in his head. If she had, perhaps she'd have some great wisdom to impart on Frodo. Something to help him keep that terrifying voice away. As it is, she does not have the words nor the vocabulary.

So she exits the dell, and faces south. She's getting better at sensing these Ring Wraiths, and she can feel at least two. She can't tell if they are the same ones they faced during the night or different ones come to hunt the group down. Only five of nine had arrived last night, so these two might not even be those among the previous group. She smiles viciously. It might explain why they are so daringly coming out into the open if they don't know about her. She'd struck enough fear into the other three who had fled from her as if she'd been the Kyuubi rampant itself. Even she had made six seals the day before, so she has at least enough for two more victims. She focuses on the one she can feel to the East, supposing she'd best clear the path first. Cracking her knuckles, she _shunshins_ out as close as she dares to the hooded figure, cloaking her chakra very carefully. She checks her surroundings, noting the thicket that lays to the south. She's standing atop a wide road, the one she'd seen stretching from east to west to the south of the conical summit. Even if the party is right on her heels, it'll take them the better part of the hour to reach this road. She'd best find a way to snuff this hooded figure before they reach it. Still, she doesn't have enough chakra to face one of them without the element of surprise. So she steals into the ticket and follows eastward, studying her surroundings with care. She has a multitude of _Hiraishin_ kunai at the ready, just in case the creatures know how to mute their energy in order to hide from her.

Carefully, she covers the mile and a half that lays between her and the horseman, noting that he must be slowly riding towards her on the road. If it's hoping to get the drop on the little man-children and Aragorn, it certainly has another thing coming. She's moving so scrupulously, she barely notes the passage of time as she finally reaches the rider and proceeds to stalk it. It's mounted on a large black horse, moving slowly and silently on the soft dirt of the road. Clearly, it's trying to reach the traveling party if they should attempt to travel using the road. She observes it studiously as she quietly opens her modified sealing scroll, wrapping it around her arm for easy access. The horse is rather larger than those she'd seen in the Five Nations, bred for war and fighting. It's a huge stallion of sorts, though she hesitates to call it an animal. It's been well-cared for, as most mounts seem to be around these parts, but there is something evil about it. As if the chakra she'd felt from these Ring Wraiths had permeated the animal itself and tainted it. It is half-deranged, pawing aggressively at the ground even as his rider forces the stallion into a slow walk. Sakura would be willing to bet that this horse would love nothing more than to run far and fast, crushing as many people beneath its wildly flailing hooves.

Suddenly, the rider shouts something in a cold, eldritch voice that echoes along the road like the funeral toll of a big bell. The horse rears, snorting eagerly at the prospect of a hunt, and Sakura panics. She feels for the _Hiraishin_ she planted on the warrior and can sense it's only half a mile away. If the Ring Wraith sets his horse into a gallop, she might miss her perfect strike. Worse, despite her healings, she's pretty sure that Frodo cannot move very well in his present state. The party would be wholly powerless to stop the assault from one Ring Wraith, much less two of them. She hears the one to the West give a resounding call in response. The horse lands solidly on the ground and its muscles bunch up in preparation for a leap. Sakura takes a deep breath, swearing viciously under her breath, and throws her _Hiraishin_ kunai. As she activates the technique, mere inches from the rider's back, she loosens the scroll on her arm and grips the flying weapon daintily. It takes only a second for the horse to notice the additional weight on its hind quarters… but a second is all she needs.

* * *

Feeling the danger of remaining in the same place for too long, Strider pushes the hobbits to ready for travel. They're weary from a long night of no rest and the excitement of _Tuilérë's_ coming. It's clear to him that Frodo cannot walk, so they divide the weight of their burdens among them, so he may ride Bill. Thankfully, the pony has strengthened in the last six days and can stand the weight of one hobbit on his back. Weathertop has proved to be unsafe for them, and worse, it's likely the Riders had been watching the place since before Gandalf had stayed there. The wizard must have been forced to ride away, as evidenced by the battle that must have taken place at the summit. As they readied, Strider explained his reasons for changing course, despite how it would lengthen their trip a bit. As the hobbits shouldered their burdens, he told them they must cross the road to the South in order to reach much more wooded country. In the past, he'd avoided it for fear of _Tuilérë's s_ talking, but now it would be much more to their gain. It would help them keep out of sight from the Riders and obtain fuel, so they may keep Frodo warm during the night. He doesn't say, however, that the forest offered the added protection of _Tuilérë_ herself. Though she'd shown no inclination to follow them, Aragorn had not doubt that she would show up should they need her aid. The company is very jittery as they cross the road within the first hour of their trip, and despite the sun hanging high in the sky, Frodo cannot stop shivering. His wound stings as there is a sudden cry from a cold voice as they hurry across and then the response from another voice. Aragorn has his sword out as he ushers the hobbits into the thickets that lay ahead, when a sudden long, despairing scream rents the air. They keep their heads down as they move, almost crashing gracelessly into the welcome, if wild wooded area before them.

Aragorn's eyes are drawn to movement above as he spots a swooping bird, colored like a magpie yet shaped like a hawk, circling above them carefully before shooting off eastward. He smiles as he notes that _Tuilérë_ is carefully keeping an eye on them, despite not traveling alongside them. He wonders if the cry had been her doing, before his attention focuses on the road ahead. The next few days are punishing for the group, and Strider notes that Frodo's face is getting paler and paler as time passes them by. The first five days are spent mostly in silence, though nights are spent in fear, keeping an urgent watch in pairs, in case the Riders decided to attack. To Aragorn's delight, he often spots _Tuilérë_ lounging among the treetops near their camp, her gaze fixed into the darkness around them, keeping faithful vigil over their party. He never mentions it to the hobbits, as she clearly does not wish to join them or disturb their travels. During the day, her bird familiar is often spotted flying above them, keeping an eye on them and their surroundings as they approach _Mitheithel_ and must begin their trip toward the Last Bridge. It's this part of the journey that has most worried Aragorn, as he knows that the Last Bridge could very well be held against them, as it is the only way they can cross the deep waters of the River Hoarwell. The next morning, he and Sam head out first to check to Road two miles from the Last Bridge, fearing the presence of the Enemy. However, the Road had seen some rain in the last two days and there was no sign of horses or travel from any direction. It's shortly after that they finally spot the Last Bridge, free of any cloaked figures, friendly or otherwise.

Aragorn returns with high spirits to the party, as he's spotted proof that Elves are abroad, possibly one of the reasons he has not seen the Riders travelling quite so freely. With the Elves and the added presence of _Tuilérë_ , the Riders would have to be much more cautious in following the Ring-bearer. Though the Nine had no obvious quarrels with the Elves at the moment, no Elf would allow any of the Black Riders so close to Rivendell to pass unremarked. Despite this, he decides that they must not keep to the road, but crawl along the looming, sullen hills to the north of the Road. It's a cheerless land, and there are no clear paths for them to follow, but it's the best path they can take to avoid detection. The company trudges on wearily as they are surrounded by an old, twisted wood that seem to have become a part of the hills themselves, mounting into slopes of pine-wood. By the second day of their travels, they're accosted by sheets of rain, which leaves the travelers weather beaten and more morose than ever. To Aragorn's alarm, he can no longer see _Tuilérë_ or her bird; this, coupled by miserable days of constant rain and little food, begins to gnaw on his mind. He'd always thought she purposely showed herself to him at night, to reassure him that they were not alone. But since they entered the Trollshaws, he's not seen hide nor hair of her. Worse, by this time, they're ten days out from Weathertop and no closer to the Ford or the _Bruinen_ than they should have been. Aragorn makes sure to find better shelter for them that evening, as he's rather sure that Frodo's suffering from the phantom wound on his shoulder. Strider had hoped that travel would help him improve, but the cold and wet seemed to have a negative effect on his health. Already, Strider can see that Frodo is waning.

That night, he finds a suitable shelter, something of a cave to keep them out of the rain enough to build a fire. It takes Aragorn more tries than he'd like to admit for him to light a fire, but he eventually gets one going. The hobbits all huddle close to the tiny flame, and Strider can see that Frodo falls into a restless sleep as soon as his head hits his pack. He asks Samwise and Pippin to keep watch while he, too, gets some much-deserved rest. While the three other hobbits prepare dinner and chat softly around the fire, Aragorn tries his best to sleep. Frodo, with his back to the fire, begins to dream. He twists and turns uneasily, swatting Samwise away when the fat hobbit comes to check up on him. Every noise he can hear above the sound of rainfall makes his heart beat like a wild-horse in his chest; he's never been so terrified in his entire life! A hand falls onto his forehead, and for the first time in days, Frodo feels his fever break. He tries to swat blearily at the hand resting gently on him, but it remains firmly on him as a cooling sensation spreads. His feverish dreams ease away from him, like a gently parted curtain, and he opens his eyes. Strider's Spirit is kneeling beside him, her hand on his forehead. He knows he ought to be afraid of this creature, but all he can feel is relief. The firelight makes her hair a pink-gold, with her slanted green eyes focused directly onto his face. She really is very beautiful. He smiles at her, relaxing under her soft touch, and falls back to sleep. Though his dreams are not restful, he turns so that whenever he opens his eyes, he can gaze upon Strider, now awake, smoking and keeping watch.

* * *

After her initial set up of the remaining three seals she needed for the Ring Wraiths, Sakura tries to keep up with the traveling party. She only ever steps away when she needs a few solid hours of sleep, but otherwise, she stays no more than a few feet from them. Since she'd sealed and killed the cloaked rider she'd ambushed by the road, she'd felt no presence of any of its comrades traveling abroad. It's begun to stink of _trap_ to Sakura, and she's actively perturbed by the preoccupying idea of being assailed by all six of the remaining horsemen. Hence, by the time Aragorn and the little men reached the cover of the hills to the north of the road, Sakura had already explored the entirety of the countryside. From the conical summit, to the large bridge and all the way to the second river near the foot of the looming peaks to the East; Sakura had explored it all in search for the ambush the Ring Wraiths would most certainly prepare. She found no one on the road, except for a lone rider mounted on a white horse heading westward, whom she'd ignored. She checked all of the caves in the area (some of which where oddly full of both human and animal bones), the most densely wooded areas and the worrisome open spaces around the wide road. To her great displeasure, these creatures did not think very much like ninja would. Though the conical summit and its hidden dell were admittedly a good place for an ambush, they had done so in a way she'd thought to be entirely ridiculous. They had simply shown up, in their meager strength of five (instead of nine) and waved their swords around. They had also beaten a hasty retreat as soon as they realized they had opposition of any kind. Not even _genin_ were that stupid. Then again, their end-goal is a mystery to her. If they hadn't been looking to kill the party, but rather had a different goal... It causes a certain disquiet in her mind that makes her near-obsessive about the alleged trap. She's not used to thinking like they are. As such, when the rain comes in, Sakura grows even more aggressively dogged about it. When Frodo's condition worsens, with no visible cause that she can detect, her pride also takes a hit. She can't even bear to be near the warrior and his companions.

She wishes she could tell the warrior to keep to the road, as it seems to be headed in the direction of his travels. Sakura prefers instead to stalk ahead of their intended path, weeding out dangers and particularly difficult trees that would block their way. She makes sure to re-plant the trees somewhere they can thrive, but it's a time-consuming task. As she combs through the forest, she kills a variety of animals that appear to be acting as spies, and just the day before, she'd run into a collection of odd-looking statues. Sakura isn't sure what would possess an artist to recreate such hideous man-like creatures half the size of a house, but she can't be judged for her artistic sense. One appeared to be stooping while the other two gazed at it, as though frozen in time. Perhaps Sai would have an explanation for it, but they just seem out of place and mildly cumbersome as they've been built close to the nearest path toward the road. This constant rain has begun to annoy her, should the hills decide to turn against the travelers. She could rescue them all from a landslide, but she won't be able to handle the pony. At least, not without knocking the animal out so it wouldn't lash out at her in fear when she dead-lifts it straight out of the mud. Sakura's rather sure that the fat hobbit would rather die than let her harm a hair on that poor creature. Worrisomely, she's also rather sure that the party is running out of supplies for their survival in the wilderness, and Sakura's done the math. Even her plentiful stores of five kilos of meat would not last the group more than two days. At the rate the little man-children eat, it's a wonder they could carry the food they'd consumed up until this point.

In her concern, she'd gone back to check on the group that evening, spotting Aragorn and Frodo both laying down as close as they could get to the meager fire they had built. Frodo's wound has been bothering her, as it seems to have begun to poison his body as well and his energy. It worries her, as she watched the little man-child fade day by day during his travels. Now she can see that her unease is well-grounded, as Frodo appears to be in the midst of a heavy fever. As her hand rests on his forehead, having snuck into the encampment while the other little men were cooking supper, she delves into his system. Though his body appears to be fighting an infection, she can find nothing truly wrong with him. It irks her, this ailment she can see but cannot heal. So she gently urges his metabolism and soothes his immune system, rebuilding a few things inside that appear to have corroded. To her displeasure, even his veins and arteries seem to have clots and damage, as if whatever is hurting his energy has begun eating his body. His stomach appears to be shutting down, alongside his lung. Perhaps due to their closeness to the wound on his shoulder. Even to her naked touch, his shoulder is inexplicably cold. His brain, muddled by fever, doesn't appear to have been damaged. She's rewarded by the flutter of his lashes as he awakens, staring blearily at her. She tenses, unable to leave as she's still in the midst of healing him, but apprehensive that he'll scream to alert the others. Instead, he merely smiles at her winsomely and falls right back to sleep. She blinks, surprised. Not even her fellow Konoha ninja, in the hospital and assured they're in good hands, relax so completely into her treatment. Ninja often survive only by the skin of their teeth and must rely on sharp reflexes and remaining _always_ on their guard. Never before had a countryman fallen asleep quite so willingly, especially not in the presence of one of the most skilled medics and fighters of the Leaf. It was simply unheard of. Yet here, this little man, who has every reason to distrust her existence… fell asleep against her hand with a faint smile on his face. She looks from Frodo, to Aragorn. Sakura exhales softly and smiles. She brushes away the sweat that had been on Frodo's brow as she looks at this small, kindhearted little creature.

Sakura sits beside him until Aragorn wakes, dashing off before the warrior can spot her. She's still sore from being unable to pinpoint where the Ring Wraiths will ambush them, but she knows that they cannot remain in these woods for long. Unlike any of the woods she'd seen in this land, this forest did not feel particularly friendly. If anything, it had a similar feeling to the wound on the little man-child's shoulder. This is enough to put her off of this copse of trees, if only to get Frodo away from its negative influence. Sakura needs Aragorn to get the little men-children out of here and onto the road. So, instead of camping out while the warrior keeps watch with her, she sets out to find the best path toward the road. While she can't exactly uproot every tree and bulldoze a path, she can clear the way enough for the pony to totter safely. Thankfully, the rain lets up minutes after sunrise, so she makes her way back toward the party. When they finally meet, Sakura has to stifle a smile at the relief on Aragorn's face.

* * *

As Aragorn re-directs the hobbits toward the south and away from troll-infested country, they finally find a more comfortable, if meandering opening among the clustered trees. Bright sunlight filters invitingly among the leafy overhang, and even Frodo is sitting much more alertly on the pony's broad back. Aragorn had suspected, after his short survey of the land the night before, that today's travels would be rather difficult. However, they're met with easy passage and what looks suspiciously like uprooted trees. It's unnerving him, as only trolls would be quite so capable of changing the foliage around him so quickly. He asks the hobbits to walk much closer together, assessing the possibility of trolls in these parts. He'd thought the Elves had pushed them further north among the hills, but it appears that these past few years have allowed the Enemy's influence to change more than he'd originally suspected. As they head southward, toward the Road and for easier passage, there's a break in the trees ahead. Sunlight blooms, with a dark shadow standing proudly in the light. _Tuilérë_ 's hair is a bright, almost fierce color among this gloomy, grey forest. The hobbits are already pointing excitedly, though Sam is clearly displeased and Frodo strangely calm. Aragorn files that reaction for later inspection, even as he does his best to stop from beaming like a boy whose parents just bought him his first pony. Her mild, green eyes seem to understand the naked relief on his face and he spots the briefest twitch of a lip in what could have been a smile. She gestures for them to follow as she heads south, precisely in the direction Aragorn had planned to take towards the Road. To the party's shock, she doesn't remain alongside them. _Tuilérë_ smoothly jumps straight upwards, landing among the thick branches above and shooting nimbly among the boughs toward the Road. Aragorn watches agog, as she runs slowly enough they can see her among the branches festooning above them. She stops, and turns to look at them in confusion, as they had stopped moving the moment she'd sprung up nearly two stories in a single bound. Aragorn had seen her jump down that very same distance but watching someone clear it as though the laws of nature that governed everything else did not apply to them… it makes chills run down the Ranger's spine. As thought impatient with their dawdling, _Tuilérë_ slaps her hands together to draw their attention and gestures for them to follow once more. This time, Merry and Pippin run ahead, faces raised to watch her even as they trip over various roots and smack into branches. Aragorn begs them to slow down, "please, do watch where you're going!" Frodo shouts at them astride Bill, as Samwise grumbles in a terrified murmur about ghosts in the leaves.

They follow her for miles until Merry, shouting from his spot ahead of the company, gleefully announces that he has found a path. To Aragorn's experienced eyes, this is a well-travelled road that could have once been carved by the busy movements of trolls. He keeps a sharp eye on their surroundings, daylight would protect them, but these woods are shaded enough to house the large creatures. To his great delight, _Tuilérë_ doesn't leave them. As they happily take the wild, yet trampled way, _Tuilérë_ leads the party along the fringes of the path. She jumps gracefully among the branches, keeping ahead of the company, yet never more than a few feet away. At some point, Aragorn even sees her running entirely upside down when the branches above her head get too thick. Merry and Pippin, now on the beaten path, run gracelessly after her, hooting and cajoling her to join them. Even Frodo is smiling now, able to get off Bill's back and trotting cheerfully alongside Samwise. Aragorn keeps to the back, ensuring they are not being followed while keeping an eye on the rampant hobbits. It's the first time in more than a week since he's seen the little hobbits so cheery, and it's making his heart soar. When Merry and Pippin come back, practically climbing all over a very stoic _Tuilérë_ and screaming loudly about trolls, Aragorn struggles not to smile. As the two excitable hobbits claim to have seen three very live trolls out and about in broad daylight, they tug and grip onto _Tuilérë's_ arms desperately. To Strider's great amusement, she seems to take their mishandling in stride. If anything, Aragorn would be willing to bet she found their noise hilarious. At some point, Merry manages to wrap himself completely around _Tuilérë_ 's leg, and Aragorn has the extreme pleasure of watching her walk off with a hobbit dangling desperately onto her leg and another squeaking happily from his perch on her shoulder. Though both hobbits are clearly afraid of the trolls, neither of them has stopped smiling even for a second. By the time they reach the stone-cold trolls, Aragorn is chuckling. He shows them that these beasts are long-dead, frozen by the touch of the sun's dawn, which finally spurs the hobbits to release their captive from their arms. _Tuilérë_ shoots into the trees faster than anyone could say "join us" but remains close to their party as they settle down to eat a merry lunch in the shadow of one of the trolls crouching legs. Merry, with injected comments from Pippin, tells of how they saw the trolls through the trees and had panicked. Upon hearing their screams, _Tuilérë_ had materialized in front of them, holding out a knife and crouching protectively. They had instantly clung to her and cried to be taken back to the Ranger. Though confused by their noise and fear for what the hobbits now knew to be three dead trolls, _Tuilérë_ had complied and lead them back to their traveling companions.

Aragorn stares thoughtfully at the frozen trolls, wondering if _Tuilérë_ had ever seen creatures like them. Evidently, she did not deem them dangerous, lounging lazily on the tree tops as she is. People who did not know troll-lore would see them and feel fear, as the hobbits had, without realizing that these creatures could not live above-land in broad daylight. _Tuilérë_ had not reacted as someone who did not know troll-lore. If anything, she seemed completely ignorant of them. Not even while Merry and Pippin screamed (in accordance to their tale) had she looked alarmed by the looming beasts. Even now, as Samwise sang a bright tune of a traveler finding a troll eating a family member, the hobbits were looking queasily at the stone trolls. Despite the proof, Pippin kept glancing at the stone trolls with suspicion, as though wondering if some magic would bring them back to life again. As Aragorn rests in the shade, he realizes that to someone who did not know trolls, this gathering of stone statues would seem merely like an eccentric sculptor's abandoned projects. He wishes he could tell _Tuilérë_ about the danger of trolls. Though she clearly has enough strength to kick cracks into the earth, he is sure she would be unable to handle a troll. Trolls possess the strength of more than ten men. They would get the better of her in a battle.

Aragorn wishes to hurry on to Rivendell with more urgency than before. He's not a very exemplary teacher in languages, but Elves are renowned for it. They had even awakened the Ents from their rest to learn their language and to teach them to sing. He is sure that Elrond would gladly take her under his wing and teach her; the Elves would eagerly learn her language, too. In the safety of Rivendell, she could learn much and teach. Aragorn is realizing that, if he was in her situation, he would be looking for any way possible to get back home. He blinks slowly and feels his heart nearly stop with sorrow. _Tuilérë_ **will** leave them. He looks up to find her perched like a bird atop the trolls, listening intently as Samwise belligerently repeats his song for her. When she smiles at the fat hobbit, clearly enchanted, Sam blushes furiously and lowers his head. After she saved the other two, Samwise was no longer staring at her like he expected her to explode. If Aragorn is any judge, the fat hobbit is in the process of being thoroughly charmed. Merry and Pippin are both making an effort to speak slowly as they point excitedly at themselves and try to get her to say their names. Frodo sits somewhere nearby, smiling indulgently as his friends try their level best to charm their stoic protector into joining them. She stays out of their reach but surprises them by pronouncing their names aloud. Merry and Pippin laugh delightedly, Samwise seems to find the ground impossibly interesting while Frodo laughs openly. For the first time since Weathertop, the party is joyous. _Tuilérë_ **will** leave them as soon as she is able. Aragorn is not sure exactly why she chose to follow and protect them with her life, despite owing them nothing. This is not her home. She would have no reason to stay. As soon as she learned enough from the Elves, she would leave them. He watches the hobbits interact naturally with this beautiful girl who seems to have been woven with flowers, grass and magic… and feels a deep melancholy tug at his determination to reach Rivendell. It's probably for the best for all concerned, but he's sure that, as soon as _Tuilérë_ knows how to head home, she'll leave. She'll leave them all behind.

He looks up, noting the lateness of the hour, and calls for the hobbits to get ready to leave. _Tuilérë_ watches them pack up and jumps back onto her preferred traveling path. Aragorn can see that Frodo is much happier, having seen the marks of Bilbo's triumphant passage have put him in higher spirits. They continue their travels toward the Road, finally alighting onto it in the shadows of the early evening. Thankfully, it appears to be clear of travelers. However, when Aragorn turns around to gesture for the group to climb down the bank and onto the Road, he sees that _Tuilérë_ is gone. His heart gallops in his chest as he asks the hobbits where she went. Even Frodo, who has the best vantage point, could not spot her. Aragorn, for the sake of calming the hobbits, suggests aloud that perhaps she's ensuring their safe passage on the Road. The hobbits seem to accept this easily and they walk along the Road with little fear. There is a cold wind blowing from the peaks ahead, but Aragorn finds little comfort in the familiar scent of home. It isn't until they start looking for a place to camp off the Road when they hear a sound they have dreaded. The Road seems to ripple with the sound of hoofs striking the ground. Aragorn ushers the hobbits quickly into the slopes, to hide them amongst the deep heather and thickets of bilberry brushwood. They find thick-growing hazels, and Aragorn moves to a position he can easily jump out to surprise the rider. They sit in horrified silence and wait.

* * *

Sakura curses softly under her breath as she keeps to the shadows of the trees, running westward while following along the fringes of the wide, beaten road. Since setting out from the statues, she'd felt a sort of shining, bell-like chakra begin to buffet her senses. It's similar to the dark energy of the cloaked figures only in that it's the exact opposite. After the first few miles toward the Road, Sakura sent her clone out to investigate the source. Upon reaching the wide path, her clone returned with urgent news. The bird signaled for her to break from the group and landed on her shoulder once they were out of hearing distance. "There's a rider on the road, a tall man," it had whispered urgently. "It's not at all like the Ring Wraiths. This one has a white horse and is blonde. I think it's the same rider from a few days ago. There's something odd about him, he shines like a little star to my eyes. His chakra is very overwhelming." Finding this more than disturbing, in case the rider turned out to be an enemy, Sakura had left the group behind under the watchful eye of her clone. He's at least two miles behind the party and she wants to surveil this intruder before he can reach them. There are many bends in the road at this point, but Sakura cuts through them easily as she races along the trees. She slows as she approaches the last bend between her and the stranger, so she crouches among the boughs to watch. Sakura mutes her chakra, going into full stealth mode. Apart from the cloaked figures, this is the first time she's met a resident of this land whose chakra feels refined and polished. If anything, it's sharp and bright against her senses, like a supernova. And somehow, unlike anything she's ever felt before, there's a scent on this chakra. It's fresh, like a blend of eucalyptus and citrus, with a dash of antiseptic. It reminds Sakura of her mentor, who wore the hospital like a cloak. The rider finally comes into view, riding swiftly on a beautiful white horse. The horse's head seems to sparkle as though lined with stars, and the rider wore a cloak that streamed behind him like a banner. Though he looks like a human with long blond hair, his ears end in odd points and he's overwhelmingly beautiful. Sakura stares at him mistrustfully, wondering if to let him pass, or to take him down. He reins his horse in suddenly, his head turning in her direction. She remains perfectly still among the branches woven around her, dispersing her attention. He remains on the road only long enough for her to get a tad nervous, then turns and urges his horse onwards.

Sakura is instantly moving, darting among the tree tops toward the company. Now that she knows he probably isn't a Ring Wraith, she'll gauge their reaction to this stranger. She's not entirely sure what to make of this new creature; to her eyes, he practically glows like a beacon. She's never seen chakra behaving quite like that before, though she's starting to doubt that it's chakra at all. Perhaps it's more like the magic she'd seen the warrior perform when attempting to heal Frodo. That makes more sense, although it really confuses her. It's more like magic, every living thing possesses it, but not everyone can wield it proficiently. If she were in a betting mood, she'd say that this rider is skilled in using his magic. As she races ahead, she worries. If he can use his magic, that means he's a more difficult opponent. Sakura wishes she had more weapons that the usual standard ninja gear, like a sword or staff. She doesn't know the capabilities of this man-creature, and she'd rather keep it a little more long-distance. She brings out two kunai, and slides into position a few yards south of where the company is now walking. They'd gotten rather far in her trek to the West, but she can tell that they're starting to look for a campsite off the Road. It doesn't take long for the rider to catch up, as his horse moves in ground eating strides. The rider suddenly reins his horse in, which alarms Sakura as he's staring straight at the hiding spot of the party. Aragorn pops out from the shrubbery with a cry, but Sakura won't have him run headlong into danger. She activates the _Hiraishin_ seal on his back, gripping his shoulder as she frog-jumps him, sliding her hand down over his chest, then shoving hard. She doesn't even blink as she stares at this blindingly bright man, who's dismounting as she brandishes her blades threateningly. One more step, and she'll slit his throat.

* * *

Aragorn fights for breath as he struggles to stand, surprised by the strength of the dainty hand that sent him flying backwards nearly fifteen feet. The hobbits help him up as they yell in dismay. _Tuilérë_ clearly does not think the Elf-lord is a friendly face, standing as she is protectively between them. Aragorn finally stands and staggers, calling for his ally to stand down. She hasn't jumped at the Elf just yet, which Aragorn finds heartening. Glorfindel is confused, staring wide-eyed at this apparition who suddenly materialized behind his friend and sent him flying with a single, seemingly effortless push. Aragorn assumes that _Tuilérë_ hasn't tried to slit the Elf's throat merely because he's doing his best to look harmless. The Elf openly leaves his bow and arrows hanging from the horse's saddle and raises both arms. Aragorn finally reaches _Tuilérë_ and grips her arm, apologizing profusely to the Elf-lord as he introduces him gladly to the peering hobbits still hidden in the brambles. _Tuilérë_ barely spares him a look, still staring balefully at this new addition to their party. Aragorn gestures between them, enunciating "ally", before doing the same between himself and Glorfindel. She finally looks at him dead in the eye, following his movement and pronouncing "ally" a bit wonkily. She points, a bit rudely, at Glorfindel and says "ally" once more. Her tone is slightly menacing, as if she's hoping what she's saying is an insult. Aragorn nods, gesturing between them and saying it once more. She nods and puts both knives away without moving her hands. She straightens and bows somewhat formally toward the Elf. Glorfindel, sensing all is well, smiles. He introduces himself in Common, patting his chest twice. He stares at _Tuilérë_ , expecting her to reciprocate, only for her to vanish in a puff of smoke.

Aragorn grins, finding himself growing fonder of his seemingly gruff protector by the minute. For someone who refuses to state her name, she always responds to the alias given to her. As he and the hobbits join the somewhat confused Elf onto the Road, he glances off to the side and spots her draped elegantly over a thick tree branch a few discreet feet away. Merry, bless his loyal heart, instantly runs over to her as soon he spots her, standing beneath her tree like an adorable guard dog. Pippin and Samwise, having likewise spotted the Elf's odd stare toward their resident Spirit, double-time to join their compatriot. Every Elf is a welcome ally, but _Tuilérë_ has risked her life for them. As far as the hobbits are concerned, the Elf-lord should keep his curious gaze to himself. Aragorn stifles a smile as he declares their standing ground is a pleasant camping site. Glorfindel, however, has other plans. As he announces the presence of at least six Black Riders hot on their tail, he urges Frodo to mount his horse. Frodo refuses, even as he sways on his feet, at the idea of abandoning his companions while riding an Elven horse. Samwise, noting his master's weakness, is at his side in a hiccup. Glorfindel reaches for the swooning hobbit, only to be met with a fierce, green glare and the business end of a very sharp knife. _Tuilérë_ blocks his advances, finding his intentions suspect. Aragorn rushes to intervene, but Frodo beats him to it. His small, shaking hand finds _Tuilérë_ 's free one. She turns to inspect him, searching his eyes. Whatever she sees in them, it makes her stand down and lower her weapon. She straightens, giving the Elf one vicious warning stare before standing back. Merry and Pippin are at her sides, gripping her hands in case she gets violent again. _Tuilérë_ smiles at them, allowing them to lead her away even as she watches the Elf-lord like a hawk.

Aragorn talks of their meeting with Five of the Nine and brings out the hilt of the blade he had hidden in his cloak for safekeeping. He notes that _Tuilérë_ cranes her neck to see what he's holding, as Glorfindel takes it with a grimace to inspect the cursed blade. As Glorfindel regretfully states that Frodo's wound is beyond his abilities to heal, returns the blade hilt to Aragorn and turns to inspect the wound… he freezes when he sees only unblemished skin. Glorfindel exclaims in surprise, but the party doesn't reply. He can feel the turmoil caused by the blade within the small hobbit, but the wound is nowhere to be found. Samwise, still clutching his master, says nothing. Frodo, too, remains mute. Even Merry and Pippin, who cannot be kept quiet for love or money… are as silent as mice before a cat. _Tuilérë_ kneels to smile at both hobbits still clutching her hand. Aragorn realizes his guardian spirit must have a deeper understanding of the situation than anyone could give her credit for. She pushes forward a little to stand in front of the hobbits, releasing them both. "Our ally here helped heal little Frodo. She's been very helpful to us during our trip," Aragorn says, keeping deliberately vague. Glorfindel sends him a look over Frodo's head, then rises. Frodo blinks, as though seeing with new eyes, and _Tuilérë_ steps forward. Her eyes are wide as she's looking at the tiny hobbit, then looks back up at Glorfindel. The awe in her expression seems to surprise the Elf-lord. She reaches forward, touching Frodo's shoulder and the hobbit relaxes easily into her gentle touch. Glorfindel nearly jumps in shock and stares aghast at Aragorn.

"Who is she? How can she _heal_?" He demands, casting a disapproving stare at those huddled around him.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 7,350**

 **I also feel like this chapter was mediocre, perhaps even a bit wis** **h-fulfilling. I'm glad that the last chapter wasn't the disappointment I thought it would be, but I need to step up my** _ **GAME**_ **. You guys deserve only the best, and that's what I hope to bring to you every single chapter. Ugh, I hate giving you guys shitty writing. I'll do better, I promise.**

 **A lot of magic in LotR is invisible, like Glorfindel's healing of Frodo in this part. To Sakura, however, it's NOT invisible.**

 **Don't forget to review! It truly fuels my passion to know that this journey brings you guys so much joy.**


	8. The Reaper

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: Finally, a battle.**

 **A guest reviewer made me cry with her lovely review, even requesting a P.O. Box to send gifts. Never before has that come up on behalf of a fan, and I am just a puddle of utter joy with the mere thought of someone having the intention of sending a gift. I'm not sure if ffnet allows for that kind of thing but thank you for offering. Truly, I was just blown away by that suggestion. Thank you for that. Readers like her, like all of you, give me a reason to exist and to write.**

 **I took a while to post this because of issues with the chapter that follows. Chapter 8 will take a while longer than I'd hoped, but it should be finished by December at the latest. The bottom AU explains it in depth.**

 **I want to take a moment to thank every single person who has reviewed, users and anonymous! Thanks to all of you, my story has reached 200 reviews! I've never gotten such an overwhelming response and I am simply overjoyed! I hope to keep writing a story that is to your liking!**

 **We're reaching the end of Book I in the first Volume (titled Fellowship of the Ring) of the Lord of the Rings. Is anyone as happy as I am?**

* * *

 **Chapter 7  
** **The Reaper**

Sakura doesn't like this new addition to their party, but he seems to be on friendly terms with the warrior. They greeted each other warmly, and Aragorn had compared his relationship to her with his relationship to this interloper. "Ally", he'd called them both. She supposes it must be something that means "on the same side". Sakura must admit that she rather likes that. Though such a thought would feel a bit better if it wasn't instantly linked to this shining, shimmering trespasser. He's very pretty, she almost wants to punch him. He reminds her so much of Ino, Sakura's having a hard time fighting the urge to pull his hair and call him a pig. But he looks terribly dignified and she cannot justify doing it. Even just for fun and hidden behind a very good _genjutsu_. As the talk seems to spiral into the mundane, Sakura leaves. In fact, she's rather sure the intruder just introduced himself. Do these people have no concept of secrecy or trust? Only Naruto gives his name out like it's a business card; ninjas are supposed to be covert operatives. Haruno Sakura isn't going to give out her name willy-nilly. She also doesn't want to be immediately associated with the traveling party. She's with the company, but she doesn't want to travel with them. The dangers they are facing mean that they must travel fast. As evidenced by today, the little men-children cannot focus on the road if she's nearby. The three currently stationed under her tree seem to have adopted her. Sakura finds them **adorable**. When the fat one rushes to Frodo's side, Sakura sits up. Unnoticed until now, the darkness eating away at his chakra seems to have grown with the night. In fact, Sakura's sure it's gotten much worse than before. She stares at the inky black spot on his shoulder, wishing she could do something about it.

To her utter horror, the busybody pretty-boy reaches out to Frodo. She _shunshins_ so fast, it feels like the _Hiraishin_. He freezes with a kunai to his neck, keeping perfectly still as she threatens to make good on her earlier promise of slitting his throat. Sakura wishes she could taunt him, but a language barrier makes her threats pointless. Instead, she glares, daring him to even move. A hand touches hers, and it's only through sheer practice that Sakura doesn't jerk her arm and flay the tall blond by mistake. She looks back, finding wide blue eyes looking up at her pleadingly. Frodo doesn't say anything, merely holding onto her hand like a life-line. His gaze is full of pain and misery, shooting another bullet into her heart for her failure to help him. If this man can help him, she really shouldn't stand in his way. So she steps back, putting her _kunai_ away just before the little ones grasp onto both of her hands. The fat hobbit remains at Frodo's side, looking worried and fretful as the tall man leans close. Aragorn says something, holding what looks like the hilt of the blade that wounded Frodo. Sakura cranes her neck to get a better look as the blond leans over the hilt, looking disgusted. Sakura doesn't understand his expression until his hands find the hilt, where both his energy and the knife react to each other. A putrid, acidic scent takes the air, and Sakura has to swallow hard to keep her food down. Something beyond what she can perceive is going on here. The man gestures dismissively and Aragorn puts the hilt away into the folds of his cloak.

The blond finally reaches for Frodo and looks shocked by the lack of a gaping wound or protruding knife-point, even a scar. Sakura supposes that he's never seen anyone healed by someone of her skill. Aragorn and the little man-children had shown her that with their own varied reactions. When he straightens, demanding answers, Sakura is surprised when no one offers a ready response. She'd expected the little ones, at least, to gab freely of her prowess. Instead, the tall man is met with stony silence. This, if nothing else, proves to Sakura just how loyal these little men can be. They barely know her, yet they protect her as one of their own. Finally, the warrior says something, but Sakura can tell it's not the answer the other man expected. His hand rests on Frodo's shoulder, just over the stain on his life force. He flares like a glowstick, almost making Sakura jump, and the dark spot diminished significantly. Sakura can tell it's a strain on his reserves, for the glow around him dims. She stares at him in awe, amazed by his ability. She'd never seen anyone heal chakra like that, not even Hyuuga healers. Unthinkingly, she reaches for Frodo, healing chakra already in her hand, wanting to see what he'd done. As she does so, she heals a few minor scratches Frodo had accumulated throughout the day. Only to jump when the man suddenly snaps waspishly, sounding very cross.

She isn't sure where to go from there, but she files that reaction for later inspection. It seems that, like her, this tall blond can see chakra (or magic) when it's being manifested. He hadn't seen her chakra at all, as she'd been muting it while she stalked him. But his eyes had widened at the sight of it pooling into her hand, then pouring into Frodo from their point of contact. Perhaps he could even see what she had done while healing the scratches, putting his abilities to see chakra above her own. Sakura cuts off her contact with Frodo, who looks much livelier, and mutes her chakra once more. As long as the party remains unresponsive to his questions, Sakura must strive to avoid giving herself away. She hadn't counted on him being able to see chakra, as no one around these parts seems to share in his abilities. She backs off as his horse comes forward and he urges Frodo to mount. Sakura smoothly moves to Frodo's other side and deftly plants a _Hiraishin_ tag onto the back of his shin, under his breeches. Like the one she'd left on the warrior, this one seeps into his skin, leaving none of the tag and only the seal. It's more visible than she would like, but Sakura has a feeling that they mean to send Frodo ahead of them. With this, she vanishes into the trees, planning to hunt and replenish her stores.

* * *

The party, however, remains mute to the Elf-lord's questions. The hobbits, especially, seem to be almost aggressively quiet. Glorfindel had been willing to let her speed and her knives pass unremarked, but this? To his eyes, her hands had suddenly become as bright as the sun, fighting back the darkness festering in the little hobbit's body. What had once seemed an uncommonly beautiful woman with colorful hair and odd clothes is now a mystery. What had seemed to his eyes a normal human woman suddenly became fierce and ablaze, like a Warrior Goddess. Aragorn looks puzzled, unable to see what the Elf had witnessed. Noting the confusion in his friend, Glorfindel calms his nerves. Perhaps his friend has no idea exactly what this woman was doing for the little hobbit. He looks up at the night sky and clicks his tongue. His horse, having remained on the Road, trots forward. Glorfindel urges to company to continue onwards, finally convincing Frodo to mount the white steed. The rest of the party pile their belongings onto Bill's back, as Glorfindel insists on walking throughout the evening. As the hobbits trudge after the Elf and Strider, Glorfindel looks about before gesturing for Aragorn to lean close.

"Explain yourself, _Dúnadan_. Your ally is more than she seems." Glorfindel whispers, keeping his voice low so it will not carry to the hobbits hurrying behind them. He cannot see her, but he's seen her speed enough to know this does not mean she is not around. Aragorn, too, appears to be looking around to find his ally. After more than a fortnight since meeting her, he is still not used to her comings and goings. With Glorfindel here, Aragorn can relax a little more. Few are the Elves in Rivendell who can ride against the Nine, but Glorfindel is among those whom are greatly feared by even Sauron. As such, Aragorn decides to trust him with more intel on his Spirit. "I don't know much, I met her in Chetwood. She has followed us since then, and she chose to protect us. I don't think she's from around here, as she doesn't speak Common, Sindarin or even Dwarven. She's never introduced herself, so I call her _Tuilérë_. She responds to it, often enough." Aragorn says softly, carefully omitting _Tuilérë_ 's skills in battle… and her utter heartlessness in killing other living creatures. His first impression of her had been mired in misunderstandings, as she'd killed a man before his eyes and stalked them for days. "I thought she was in the service of the Enemy, but she has not even looked at young Frodo's burden."

"Yes, she has," Frodo says from somewhere behind them, making both Ranger and Elf jump a bit guiltily. They had been so careful of hobbit footsteps, they quite forgot one of them was mounted atop a fleetfooted Elven steed. Frodo rides on, seemingly lost in a trace. "It's afraid of _Tuilérë_ , I think. She glared at it. I don't think she likes it." Aragorn and Glorfindel stare in shock at the little hobbit, astounded by the news. No one could bend the Ring to their will, save for its Master. No one had thought, however, to frighten the Ring. It's a new angle that interest Strider, as he'd always feared that Isildur's Bane would control him as it did his ancestor. Like the hobbits, who have proved strangely resilient to the Ring's evil, _Tuilérë_ seems able to resist it. This makes both Aragorn and Glorfindel go quiet as they lead the hobbits through the gloom of the evening. It isn't until the grey of dawn that Glorfindel finally calls a halt to the proceedings, allowing the hobbits to throw themselves into the ground a few yards from the Road. Gladly, all of them fall asleep as soon as they lay down, even Aragorn. As Glorfindel stands guard over his charges, a shadow seems to detach itself from the trees to the north. Under the darkness of the hood, keen green eyes glow like spectral lanterns. Glorfindel sits a bit straighter as he's finally faced with the famous _Tuilérë_.

* * *

Adding a few more kilos of fresh meat to her stores, Sakura sneaks back to watch the exhausted men-children follow their guide. It surprises Sakura how tireless this new addition seems to be, as if he could keep going forever. Even Aragorn looks weary, as the party had covered a long distance since they began their travels the morning before. When the blond calls for a halt, Sakura waits in the shadows of the trees until they settle down. After the first hour, she finally decides to expose herself, leaving her pack behind and stepping out onto the road. The tall blond does not look surprised to see her, merely expectant. His senses truly are superb, if he knew she was there. She walks to his location, inclining her head in greeting. He does the same, looking regal from his perch, so Sakura decides to sit down so they may be face to face. She sits on a boulder opposite, her arms leaning onto her legs. He inspects her closely, as though he is trying to catalogue her. She glowers, and he leans back, smiling politely. "I am Glorfindel," he says, which Sakura supposes to be his name. The pauses between each word leads her to believe the rest of his sentence must be the way people here introduce themselves. She answers, "I am…" and stops short, realizing it was entirely against her will. She'd been just about to tell him her name! He's watching her with interest, as though surprised she resisted. "I am _Tuilérë_ ," she says, instead. She's not sure what "ai-am" means, however.

Glorfindel seems pleased by her use of his teachings, as though learning her name through strange arts had not been his goal. He pats his chest and repeats "I am… an Elf." He waits, watching her keenly. She doesn't understand this, even as she feels compelled to tell him she's a med-nin. What is "ahn-elf"? She looks at him, taking all that he is. He's tall, blonde, with clear skin and blue-green eyes. His chakra/magic is incredibly potent and refined. He rarely tires, and he speaks more than one language. She points at him, curious, and repeats "Erfu". Glorfindel seems amused and nods. She points at a sleeping Aragorn, then looks at Glorfindel. Surprised by this, Glorfindel supplies "Man," which Sakura repeats slowly. Then she points at Frodo, who's sleeping on his side. Understanding, Glorfindel gives the halflings the title Bilbo had long-ago taught the Elves, "Hobbit." Sakura goes through all of the words she was given, saying them aloud one by one. "Elf, Man, Hobbit; Elf, Man, Hobbit…" She nods, pleased by this. Then she points to herself, staring at Glorfindel. He seems confused, which tells Sakura all she needed to know. She doesn't fall into the categories established by whatever laws that govern this world. She could introduce herself as "human" or "ninja", but she's not sure either of these words exist in their vocabulary. Anatomically, she most resembles Aragorn; in terms of chakra ability, she resembles Glorfindel. However, her kind of chakra is not something people have seen before. They don't use it like she does. They don't direct it through their chakra pathways or focus it through hand-signals. Perhaps, like she'd seen when Glorfindel healed Frodo, their magic merely requires the application of will. Or the use of a spoken-word. Similar to how Aragorn's own power became active when he sang to the blade. She stares at her hands, puzzled. Then what is she? Sakura looks up at Glorfindel, stricken, and the Elf seems troubled by this. He reaches out, making Sakura flinch, before he rests his hand over hers.

She allows it only for a few seconds, before she pulls away, sitting up straight. He doesn't seem to take this personally, leaning back himself. Suddenly remembering herself, Sakura realizes she still doesn't know exactly where the party is going. She looks around her wildly for a moment before spotting a stick. Pointing to her eyes, then to the ground, Sakura makes it clear where she wants him to look. While she might not be an artist, she's been taught cartography since her _genin_ days. Picking up the stick, Sakura then begins to draw a rather detailed map of what she had explored so far. She maps out the forest she originally found herself in, the town where Aragorn rested, the marshes, forest, the conical summit and its neighboring mountains, the road that runs from East to West, the river they had passed a few days ago and the river coming up ahead. Glorfindel nods agreeably, before pointing at the river that ran in the East under the shadow of the mountain range. He points to a spot on the river and says "Ford", then slides his finger a bit eastward and says "Rivendell". He remains with his finger on this spot, before looking up at her. Sakura finally smiles at the Elf, happy for that tidbit of information. He blinks, then smiles back. His expression goes serious as his finger returns to the 'ford'. "They will likely ambush us here," he remarks, to Sakura's absolute confusion. He seems to recall himself and repeats "The Ring Wraiths will probably attack us before we reach the ford."

Sakura recognizes his use of the words 'Ring Wraiths', which she repeats with some horror. So, he thinks the Ring Wraiths would be lurking there? But when she had explored that area, she hadn't seen any sign of the Ring Wraiths. In fact, she's rather sure that they had planned to attack them by coming in from the West and the South, not from the East. Unless there's something to the East that prevents the Ring Wraiths from crossing? When she had explored the 'ford', she hadn't seen any sign of civilization. She hadn't seen this 'Rivendell' he spoke of. Perhaps it's well-concealed and well-protected, even from her. If this is true, it's probably the reason why they hoped to reach it. There, Aragorn and his companions would be safe. But if the Elf thinks that the ford is where the Ring Wraiths will attack… Glorfindel has noted her expression and asks for the stick in her hand. When Sakura hands it to him, he slowly explains what he had told Aragorn earlier. "I met three Ring Wraiths at the Last Bridge," he says, pointing to the bridge and drawing three X marks. Sakura understands that there were three of the hooded figures and realizes when he makes a shooing motion that he ran them off. He erases the three marks he made to prove his point further. Sakura nods. Then he draws two more X marks to the South between the rivers, repeating the same shooing motion westward. There's at least five more Ring Wraiths still abroad then, though probably hidden in the West. She stares at her map, wondering what she ought to do. Her best bet would be to chase after the Ring Wraiths, but if what he says is true, she'll spend days just picking up their trail on the road.

They sit like this for a moment when there's a sudden rush of wind. Sakura's instantly on her feet, having felt the ill-energy of the Ring Wraiths. There were at least four hot on their tail, coming in from the West. She curses viciously, noting how Glorfindel winces at her tone. He might not understand what she's saying, but he can feel the heat of her words. Sakura sees him ready to rise but holds up a hand. " _Stay_ ," she says in her own language, surprised when he understands. She activates the _Hiraishin_ to retrieve her pack, then runs back to the party, fishing in the confines of her things for the freshly cooked meat she'd just hunted. " _Rest, then go_ ," She snaps, hoping he'll comprehend at least one of those orders. The 'hobbit's as he called them, were too exhausted to keep going without some rest and food in them. Tossing the entirety of a deer's flank at Glorfindel, she nods to him, and jumps into the woods to the South of the road in a single leap. She hears him gasp behind her, but she's already shouldered her pack and running westward. If this 'ford' is the only way for them to cross the river, then it's obvious that the Ring Wraiths would try to catch up to them there. At best, she can derail them and cause problems. For now, she'll head East, then find a place to sleep. She hasn't slept in almost two days, and it's taking its toll. Determined, Sakura moves on.

* * *

After waking the party and giving them a bountiful breakfast of elven liquor and the meat _Tuilérë_ had so helpfully supplied, Glorfindel urges them to rise. They had at least two more days of walking before they could reach the safety of the Ford. During the day, he only permitted two stops. On both, _Tuilérë_ showed up with more meat, already cooked, sliced and ready to eat. Aragorn looked surprised by this sudden service she had not previously rendered. But there was a strain on her face that worried the Ranger. The hobbits ate heartily, trying to keep their spirits up despite the punishing pace Glorfindel set for them. Merry and Pippin were surprising him by their lack of complaints at this point. By nightfall, they had covered over twenty miles, but Glorfindel still did not let them rest. At some point, Samwise tripped and fell in his exhaustion. Merry helped him stand, as Pippin did his best to avoid tripping himself. Frodo, as well, seemed to be finding it hard to ride even as docile a horse as _Asfaloth_ for such a long time. Eventually, but with some anxiety, Glorfindel allowed the hobbits to fall in an exhausted heap a few feet from the Road. Aragorn, himself, could barely keep his eyes open. He then spotted the familiar figure of _Tuilérë_ standing like a guardian statue on the Road, her gaze fixed to the West. With Glorfindel and _Tuilérë_ keeping watch, Aragorn could finally rest his weary head.

Glorfindel kept finding himself extraordinarily interested with this child, who could not be more than forty, doing her best for strangers she did not know and could not speak to. From what he had gathered during the day while speaking to Aragorn, she had talked more with him in an hour than with the Ranger in two weeks. She had kept her distance from the group, but at least twice had fought in their defense. _Tuilérë_ did not allow for closeness yet tolerated the hobbits and their noise with patience that bordered on fondness. Glorfindel is absolutely baffled by this. Even Elves, with their famous hospitality, did not give their lives for people whom are not their concern. No one did. As Glorfindel's gaze slides to the tiny hobbits huddled around the fire, he amends this thought. It seems that loyal hearts call to each other. There's whispers in the air, whispers only Elven ears had detect. Yet, he notes that _Tuilérë_ has drawn her customary daggers and is pacing in a predatory manner on the Road. Her impatience is almost aggressive, and it chafes against his senses. He's never met someone like her, who seems to have a star woven right into her soul. Though Elves would consider someone her age a mere baby, this girl has more strength than most of the High Elves accumulate during the course of their long lives. He also suspects that she hides her strength in his presence, diminishing it to barely a fraction of what it truly is. This child is frightening.

She suddenly looks up, as a black bird lands like a stone against her shoulder. It whispers urgently in her ear, speaking the same foreign language he'd heard her use before. He'd never seen a bird that small speaking a Man's language before. Only the Eagles in their eyries on the Misty Mountain had such a capacity for speech. She rushes to him, with the bird taking flight as she does so. She grabs the stick he holds out to her, one he'd prepared in case she wished to speak to him via drawing again. What she draws this time initially confuses him, until she starts miming by pointing in the different cardinal directions. As she points North, South, East and West, he names them out loud to her. She nods, repeating them to herself; before simply saying. "Ring Wraiths, northwest, Ford, _abunai_." _Tuilérë_ turns smartly before moving so quickly he cannot even keep track of her. She's gone, and he's left staring. He had not expected her to be quite so smart as well, being able to communicate so much with the few words she had learned from him. So it seems she's found their point of ambush, which is heartening. He knew the Riders would attack them tomorrow on their way to the Ford, possibly in all of their numbers. Aragorn had told him of the demise of the Witch-King, but Glorfindel could not be so sure. The Witch-King of Angmar would not die so easily, especially given that his existence is tied to his Master and the Ring. Should they come at them in their full strength, only Lord Elrond would be capable of driving them back. He wishes dearly though, for all their sakes, that the death of the Witch-King truly is permanent.

* * *

Frodo flinches as the four Riders appear to be calling to him, telling him to stay. Though Glorfindel is shouting at him to fly, to flee as quick as _Asfaloth_ can run… he cannot quite bring himself to do so. It isn't until Glorfindel directs his order to the Elven horse, shouting " _noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!_ " that the great steed springs away, speeding like the wind toward the Ford. From the Riders came a terrible cry, and Frodo despaired, as two more burst out from the Eastfarthing, racing to cut off his escape. _Asfaloth_ gallops valiantly, veering wildly to avoid direct confrontation with the inky black stallions of the Enemy. However, fire blooms in a great explosion right under the flailing hooves of the two intersecting Riders, making both horses rear in terror. They swerve to get around it, but more explosions follow, cutting off their intended route and closing them against the woods of the Trollshaws. The four Riders who had come up behind them scream in tandem, jumping into action now that their ambush is foiled. As they run past the party, who cling to the edges of the Road to avoid being stomped, fire blossoms under them as well. They careen desperately, trying to avoid the worst of the damage. One Rider sacrifices his horse, dismounting in a single leap. They're almost completely surrounded by a circular wall of fire stretching from North, East and South, with the Trollshaws to the West, trapping them. This wall is nearly half a mile wide, holding all six of the Riders. Only one spot in the wall does not burn. The Ring Wraiths head for the one place where fire does not burn, only to for the horses to shriek, utterly spooked by the sudden appearance of _Tuilérë_.

Once more, she stands between the company and danger. The six caged Riders are screaming in fury, trapped as they are. _Tuilérë_ completes the barrier, and the hobbits are near tears at the sight of her. She tosses a fierce look over her shoulder, desperate to be understood. " _Nigete!_ " She yells, gesturing viciously for them to leave. Aragorn hesitates, staring at the six approaching Ring Wraiths she'd so neatly walled off in flames. " _Nigete!_ " she repeats, bringing out two of her knives as she stares down the Enemy. " _Hayaku!_ " Her shooing motions grow quicker, as she's desperate for them to leave her behind. Aragorn glances at the fleeing figure of _Asfaloth_ , now far and out of the Ring Wraiths' reach. He looks at the terrified hobbits, cowering as they are behind him and Glorfindel. He makes a snap decision, unsheathing his sword.

"We'll hold them off here!" Aragorn shouts over the roar of the wall of flame, and Glorfindel does not need to be told twice. He'd thought the Ford would have been protection enough, but with the Riders held off, the hobbits needed to be kept away from what will probably be a very gruesome battle. Glorfindel marshals the hobbits into a sprint, hoping their strength will last until they cross the Ford. He can see that Frodo has already passed the barrier of the _Bruinen_ , where the Wraiths cannot follow. The magic of Rivendell would keep the hobbits safe, and hopefully, Lord Elrond will come soon to their aid. Aragorn makes sure they are gone as he approaches the wall of flame to join his ally, his broken sword held proud and high. They step within the space of the wall of fire, and behind them, the open slot closes like a curtain; sealing the Wraiths within for as long as the flames keep. The oncoming mass of darkness terrifies him, but for once, he'll fight alongside _Tuilérë_. He sneaks a peek and she tosses him an exasperated glance. She had meant for him to leave, as well. Her hands are now full of knives, glittering in the afternoon sun. She's watching the Wraiths with care, then her eyes slide lower, to their mounts. And with only the barest flicker of guilt, she lets her weapons fly. The five remaining horses fall like dominoes, screaming as their necks open to let loose a shower of blood. The Riders screech their fury at the death of their precious horses, even as they dismount and abandon them to their fate. To their surprise, _Tuilérë_ is no longer before them. She's at their backs, appearing between the middle two Wraiths like a ghost, holding her dripping knives. With a twitch of her wrist, the weapons are clean and hidden in her clothes once more. She glances at Aragorn over the shoulder of the Wraiths, before snapping her hands in front of her face and engulfing four of the Wraiths in a ball of flame.

Strider takes that as his signal, directing his attention to the remaining two Riders and making his charge. Even as he fights, parrying the deadly sweep of the Riders' broadswords, he keeps tabs on his ally. Her eyes seem to have come alive in the heat of battle, and Aragorn can once more sense that crackling warmth hovering in the air like a thick fog. It energizes him, making his swings more ferocious and keeping the two Riders at bay. One of the Riders, still aflame, tries to escape his fiendish _Tuilérë_. A hand lands on its shoulder, almost a friendly pat, before the Wraith is suddenly thrown back like an errant child. _Tuilérë_ stands like a demon, brandishing a knife in her teeth, before throwing a wide circle of those same knives around the Riders. As a Rider brings down his sword upon her head, she parries his swing with the knife in her teeth, then vanishes. She reappears behind a Rider trying to flee her wide circle of knives, roundhouse kicking him viciously back inside. Then she's gone again, frog-jumping over a ducking Rider and rolling with his cape in her grasp, tossing him like a sack of potatoes back into the circle. A Rider gets behind her then, and it takes every ounce of Aragorn's self-control not to scream as he continues to weather the assault of his own two enemies. _Tuilérë_ doesn't even turn, merely vanishing in a flash of pink and giving the Rider a punishing kick for his underhanded attempt. Aragorn loses sight of her then, ducking to avoid a swing that would have decapitated him. He rolls quickly and stands, facing his enemy. On the other side, a vicious battle ensues as the fourth Rider, seemingly fed up, manages to get his hands on the woman, tossing her petulantly into the red stone wall that flanked the Road. She crashes with a sickening crunch, the stone cracking under the force of the blow. At this, Aragorn disengages from his foes, ready to run to her aid.

 _Tuilérë_ does not cry out or scream in pain. She doesn't fall as her body slides down, but lands steadily on both feet. Blood dribbles down her mouth and face, worrying Aragorn that her head and lungs could have suffered greatly from her rough crash against the stone. This blood consolidates the fact that she is not, indeed, a God or Spirit of any sort. Aragorn has trouble believing this, however, when she stands on what looks like a broken leg without wincing, straightening with a near murderous gleam in her gaze. Her hand passes briefly across her chest, then falls, bringing out a scroll from a pouch at her hip. The Wraiths, still trapped in the circle of knives, back away as one man. She's gone in a flash. With frightening speed, she's among them, wrapping them one by one into the scroll, hands moving and tossing a round object at the Riders. Until there is one left, she does not pause once, disappearing three in quick succession. The fourth she leaves for last, stalking slowly towards it with a confident swagger. The Black Rider edges back, both hands raised and holding a knife and sword. Both prove to be ineffectual as she wraps him neatly in the scroll. As whatever she's doing takes effect, the Rider screams and throws both knife and sword in a last-ditch effort. Aragorn stares aghast as she catches the knife-point neatly between her fingers, but she hadn't seen the sword. _Tuilérë_ doesn't even grunt as it buries almost hilt-deep into her stomach, staring with disdain as the creature disappears under her technique. She picks up the scroll and turns to regard the two Wraiths Aragorn had been busy fighting.

The Black Riders around Aragorn back away, whispering amongst themselves in their own tongue. Their voices come in quick, panicky tones; they're **terrified**. She takes one step toward them, this vision of Death, and the ground cracks beneath her feet as though _Ilúvatar_ himself had taken a single step. The Riders squeal and turn to the Trollshaws to run as fast away from this Reaper as they can. Aragorn swings his sword, catching one of them across the flank, but the Rider is too frightened to even pause. The sword runs him completely through and the stricken Ring Wraith hobbles away hurriedly. Aragorn expects _Tuilérë_ at his side, ready to run them down like a bloodhound, but she doesn't make the jump. He turns, a victorious smile on his face, which falls as his ally winces and stumbles. Aragorn instantly sheathes his sword, horrified. Blood bursts from her mouth, and as she kneels on the ground, Aragorn spots a patchwork of bruises that stretch up her neck from under the collar of her cloak. He may not have powers or magic at his disposal, but Aragorn books it so fast, he's sliding to her side in seconds. He presses his shoulder under her left arm, keeping her upright. She shakes her head, pushing him away, and gestures toward the stones she'd left in the circle of knives. Understanding somewhat, Aragorn picks her up and drags her toward the stone wall she'd been thrown up against, propping her up in sitting position there. He makes sure to sit her at an angle, so the sword currently skewering her won't bump against the wall and cause her pain.

She gestures blearily toward the stones once more, her hand on her shoulder. Aragorn stops to stare as the bruises begin to fade under her touch, recalling Glorfindel's accusations of her healing abilities. He hadn't heard her even utter a word, how _was_ she doing it? Her technique is a cut above even Elven healers. Remembering himself, Aragorn fetches the four stones littering the ground. He notes, with some bewilderment, that they're actually rounded pebbles of petrified wood. As an afterthought, he also picks up the six scattered knives. He stares at the white paper wrapped around them, with its simple, yet intricate symbol. He wonders, briefly, if this is what enables her to move around in a flash. He takes both cluster of items toward her. Blood has begun to drip more profusely down her face as well, making her close one eye. She smiles at her knives and pockets them with shaking hands, a movement Aragorn can finally follow. The stones she drops directly in front of her, between her extended legs. She waves her hand to the side, which Aragorn takes to mean as a request for him to move aside. The moment he does, her hands come together, for the first time visible to him, and form different sets of complex signals. On the final signal, the hairs on the back of Aragorn's neck stand, and she takes a deep breath. As she did before, she exhales fire onto the four gathered stones. They catch fire, and for a moment, Aragorn thinks he can hear the thin, agonized cries of the damned Wraiths trapped inside. He looks up, ready to thank her or praise her for the incredible fight, only to find her slumped against the rough stone, out cold. He stares at her for a moment in silent reverence, wondering what _Ilúvatar_ was thinking when he made such a creature. Her loyalty to him has driven her to risk her life on multiple occasions, which he often forgets when she seems unbeatable while confronting a foe. He wonders what would have been of him or the hobbits without her constant aid…

The bird, _Tuilérë_ 's familiar of sorts, lands on her shoulder. It stares at him with a beady eye, as if wondering what he plans to do with its mistress. He comes closer, to which the bird fluffs up aggressively, leaving forward with it's sharp beak exposed, hissing. Aragorn holds up both hands, a sign for peace, and the bird quiets down, glaring reproachfully. He moves forward again, relieved when the bird keeps still, and gently winds his arms around the petite form of his ally. He needs to get her out of this closing circle of flame before they both cook in the trap she'd set for the Ring Wraiths. She's lithe, but he presumes she must be pure muscle, as she's heavier than she looks. Her pack drags on his arm and it's a hassle and a half avoiding the sword, but he hoists her delicately. He's dreadfully worried about her back, as her meeting with the red stone wall probably hurt her rather grievously. The bird moves, landing on his shoulder with surprising gentleness, suddenly hissing once more. Something tells him he is no longer alone, and he turns as quickly as he dares with _Tuilérë_ in his arms; but it's only Lord Elrond, gaping at the destruction wrought by the fight. More Elves move around them as they put out the fire, both with magic and buckets of water. Elrond's sharp eyes take in the cracks in the groundwork, the still smoldering grass, the indents left by _Tuilérë_ 's knives, the bleeding carcasses of the abandoned horses, the heady air supercharged with energy. He stares wide eyed at Aragorn and his carefully held bundle, and speaks in reverent tones. "What has happened here? Did you do this? _Le agorer si_?" he near-whispers in Common and Elven. " _Uin agor_ ," Aragorn doesn't really have the words to explain it, merely looking down at the sleeping woman in his arms. Elrond strides forward, leading his horse and several other warrior-Elves. He stops before Aragorn, watching with interest at how his charge cradles the tiny female in his grip.

"Is she alright?" Elrond asks, wondering about this creature. In all his long years, he's never seen anyone with hair the color of peach blossoms, a petal pink so vivid, despite the fact it's coated in a thin layer of dirt. Glorfindel had hastily told him about Aragorn's guardian, this so-called _Tuilérë_ , whom had stood between the fleeing party and danger. He'd never imagined something quite like this could be true. Her head lolls to the side, and blood continues to drip. This galvanizes Elrond, who orders that his warrior take the woman from Aragorn, so he may mount one of the spares they had brought. He informs the Ranger that the river has flooded, making it impossible to cross on foot. The bird on Aragorn's shoulder, however, raises a ruckus when the Elves dismount and try to take the woman, taking flight and showing deadly talons. It screeches something that sounds like words to the Elven warriors, though they cannot understand them. The Elves stare in open confusion at the bird. They'd never seen a black hawk before. The Elven warriors back off, which seems to pacify the bird. It lands on Aragorn's shoulder once more, looking feral. The noise has roused _Tuilérë_ somewhat, and she stirs. She raises her head, and Elrond is surprised by the vivid green eyes. She blinks, looking around at the gathered company of armored men. She reaches for one of her knives, but Aragorn gently pushes her hand away from the pouch. He draws her attention to the horse, trying to communicate his need to mount it. _Tuilérë_ shoves Aragorn away, putting both legs down and standing by herself, despite her broken leg. Her bird lands on her shoulder, whispering urgently. With shaking arms, she reaches for the saddle, clearly intending to mount by herself.

Aragorn calmly walks up and pushes her forward a bit. The bird on her shoulder transfers itself to him, staring hard at the watching Elves. _Tuilérë_ gives him a puzzled look over her shoulder, but he wordlessly offers just his hands as a means to push off and mount the horse. She smiles gratefully and steps in his cupped hands, springing easily despite her weakness and broken leg. She sits somewhat in front of the saddle, but due to Aragorn's guidance, she's sitting backwards. Aragorn mounts smoothly, helping her rest her head against his chest. Due to her back injury, Aragorn hadn't wanted to have her mount in a way that would constantly bump her spine against him. This way, the hilt of the sword still buried in her side rests against his stomach as he wraps an arm around his ally. He reaches for the reigns and notes she sits up, stiff, and he murmurs soothingly in Elven. The Elves around him have also mounted, ready to head home. He urges his mount forward, riding beside Elrond. The horse beneath them keeps a careful gait for the sake of his passengers. _Tuilérë_ eventually relaxes against him. Her bout of consciousness doesn't last her long, and she slumps against him within the first five minutes of the ride to the Ford. She awakens a few more times, but she's less and less coherent each time. It worries him, especially when he notes how much more she has bled. He'd left the sword there, because he's sure she'll bleed out if he removes it. Worse, her slump gives him a clear view down her back, into the purpling skin she wasn't able to heal despite her efforts. This close, he can hear the strain of her breathing. For her sake, he dearly hopes they can make it in time to save her life. Though she'd stood with confidence before the Elves, Aragorn had seen the tremor in her legs and arms.

It scares the life out of him.

 **End of Book I  
** **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 7,060**

 _Translations_ _ **:**_

Sindarin _:_

 _Le agorer_ _si_ : roughly means "you did this".

 _Uin agor_ : means "I did not".

Japanese _:_

 _Abunai_ : meaning "watch out" or "dangerous".

 _Nigete_ : meaning "run away" or "escape".

 _Hayaku_ : meaning "quickly", "fast" or "early".

 **These translations are faulty, so please bear that in mind. I'm horrible at this and I beg your pardon for it. I need to take a bit of a break as I ready the material based on the events of Book II. I need some time to make some notes, so I'll be taking a longer stretch of time to update; give or take about two to three months. I hope you guys understand. I know I said I'd be basing this story loosely on Lord of the Rings, but I got into it and well… the rest is history. Something I forgot to take into account when I decided to include the Elves so profoundly is that… I don't know Sindarin. Japanese is somewhat familiar to me, as I have been watching, listening and understanding (somewhat) the language since well over ten years ago. I don't have this experience with Sindarin. I need to buy a couple of books and I've started taking some online lessons. Why? Unlike Japanese, Sindarin is a conlang (meaning it's a constructed language), there's no easy nor quick way to translate it. So, while I study the language of the Elves, I won't be updating. I also need to refresh my knowledge of Chinese, Japanese and Korean culture (holidays, views on death, traditional music and folklore); as I'll be world-building Sakura's customs in ways that Kishi never did.**

 **I wrote this story on a lark. And now I'm learning Sindarin. Welcome to my life.**

 **And Aragorn is 100% right in not removing the sword from Sakura's wounds. He doesn't have access to the medical tools needed to stem the bleeding, so if he removed it, she'd bleed out in minutes. Our Aragorn is very smart; he knows how to keep people alive. It's a pity he's yet to come into his own, so he can heal her. For now, he'll rely on the expertise of the Elves.**

 **I'd truly like to thank every reviewer, both anonymous and users alike. I'm so thankful for your lovely reviews and input! I read every single one gladly and with love!**


	9. Welcome to Rivendell

**Misplaced Blossom**

 **Summary:** Her bleeding heart really will kill her someday, Sakura muses. Non-romance.

 **Warning: the beginning of deviation from the main story.**

 **No Sakura-POV in this chapter, unfortunately.**

 _ **SimpleCompromise**_ **and I had a conversation and thus, you get this chapter much earlier than I would have thought. She inspired me and I blame her entirely.**

 **Okay, y'all. This is where it gets real. Frodo and the hobbits reached Rivendell a day early thanks to Sakura and the Council of Elrond will meet on the 24** **th** **of October. The Fellowship won't leave for their trip to Mordor until the 25** **th** **of December, and it's the 19** **th** **of October right now. For those that kept count, congratulations!**

 **I deliberated whether or not to post this chapter as the postal service seems to have lost my book on Sindarin. (I am going mad about it, yes.) The few sentences you see in this chapter were studied from all angles, and I'm sure I still made mistakes. I fussed for a while, but I promised myself to update by November, so there you go. I keep my word. Even though it hurts my perfectionist heart to use only what little information is available online and not be 100% sure that the Sindarin I used it correct and accurate. I may come back and revise it later.**

 **Y'all missed trees; I'll give you trees.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8  
** **Welcome to Rivendell**

As the company of Elves accompanying Aragorn enter the woods that ensconce Rivendell, there is a strange hush among them. Even Elrond, at the front of the party, looks around attentively. The Elves perk up as the trees whisper amongst themselves. Aragorn, too busy trying to keep his ally mounted and the bird on his shoulder calm, barely registers the change. The trees loom around the new arrivals, spooking the Elves. It has been years since the forest has been this lively. As they reach the gates of Rivendell, they cannot enter it on horseback. One of the Elvenfolk dismounts first, handing his horse off to another before coming up to the Ranger and offering to help him lower his burden safely. The bird on Aragorn's shoulder is too busy looking around suspiciously as leaves move without wind. As Lindir catches _Tuilérë_ effortlessly, there is a sudden upheaval of the earth beneath his feet. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling as an unforeseen root strikes his ankles. He yells, twisting to avoid dropping his burden, only to have it taken from him by numerous green vines. The forest groans as more vines and roots come alive, encasing _Tuilérë_ from head to toe as she is hung in midair. Aragorn has already dismounted and unsheathed his sword, staring hard at the infinity of green between him and his captive ally. He seeks Elrond's gaze, but the Elf-lord is watching with horror as _Tuilérë_ 's bird screeches and dives at the branches, claws extended. The bird manages to grab a few vines, ripping them, before it's suddenly surrounded by a cage of sturdy boughs. In a puff of smoke, there is no longer a bird there, but _Tuilérë_ herself, tearing the cage apart as though made of mere matchsticks. What Aragorn can only assume is a copy of his ally (though he's never heard of a shape changer looking exactly like someone else) is screaming at the unconscious _Tuilérë_. She fights against the reaching shoots, breaking them to bits with powerful punches and kicks. However, the whole forest seems to have come alive, soon outnumbering her. They encircle her limbs one by one, holding her suspended in a spread-eagle. She's uprooting the vines in her struggles, but three more take their place, keeping her captive.

Her eyes go wild, screaming in _Tuilérë_ 's language, and Aragorn watches in horror as the forest appears intent on tearing her apart. The forest holds her aloft, completely parallel to the ground, facing the sky. Her green, terrified gaze finds his when she turns desperately for help. Aragorn stares forlornly as she cries something that sounds like " _taskete_!", her eyes glistening with tears. Aragorns yells for Elrond, unable to comprehend why this host of Elves is allowing for his friend, his ally to be tortured this way. A vine, sharp and evil, appears beneath her back and bursts through her chest on the other side. Aragorn raises his sword but is held back by the Elves. He can only watch as her frightened eyes, still gazing at him, widen in pain then dull. A single tear escapes the corner of her eye, glistening in the light of the setting sun, before she vanishes in a puff of smoke. Aragorn struggles against the hands of the Elves, and they finally release him. Elrond comes forward, watching with keen eyes as the wounded young woman, previously cocooned in vines, is gently lowered to the ground. He tries to speak, but the Ranger ignores him, rushing forward to scoop his unconscious ally into his arms and crouch defensively around her. The forest is still once more, asleep. Elrond lays a hand on his shoulder, looking concerned. " _Elessar_ , _av 'osto_ ," he says softly, kneeling beside his ward. "That which appeared to be killed was only a being of pure energy. To forest returned this energy to your ally. Do not be afraid, she is fine."

Aragorn's expression is closed and angry, but he rises at Elrond's bidding. He walks stiffly with _Tuilérë_ cradled in his arms. " _Boe de nestad_ ," is all he says, as the Elves allow him to pass. They remain silent as they allow him to go, though Elrond sends one Elf ahead to notify the infirmary of another guest arriving. Though her wounds are severe, they are not as pressing as Frodo's malady. With one last regretful look, the Elf-lord heads off to find the room where they had lain the poor hobbit to rest. In facing the Wraiths, Frodo's wound had worsened, and it needed his urgent attention. Aragorn storms almost angrily through the hallowed halls of the Rivendell Elves, gripping his ally to his chest tightly. He'd always known that Elves valued mortals very little, mostly due to the waning friendship and lack of trust. He knew this, but he had never seen Elrond participate in this practice of letting those that must die to their fate. As the Elves at the infirmary greet him and lead him to a free cot, Aragorn supposes he might be acting rashly. Elrond did say that the being that died had been made purely of energy, not of flesh and bone. It was not, per se, human. But to him, as he lays his ally on the bed on her side, he could not see it so coldly. He arranges her so she won't turn, as the Elves gather around to inspect the most distressing of her wounds. Strider brushes a lock of her dirtied pink hair aside, looking at her youthful face. Her alien, yet hauntingly familiar face. The creature the forest had killed had her face, her visage; it looked exactly like _Tuilérë_. For all intents and purposes, it had been her. It had followed them for days, keeping them safe. When _Tuilérë_ had been lifted by the forest, it had been the only other being to react in defense of his ally. When their eyes had met, it had been afraid. In that single moment, he knew that the creature had a consciousness of its own. Beings made of energy could reform, but that creature clearly could not. Elrond had even claimed the forest had given this energy to _Tuilérë_. It would never come back. He'd let it die.

Aragorn backs away from the cot so he will not hinder the Elves in their healing. He sinks regretfully to his knees, facing the wall. They're already undressing her as they can, removing her clothes and strange armor to tend to her wounds. When they exclaim in horror, Aragorn looks up, alarmed. He can only see her back, and even from where he kneels, he can tell her spinal column is horribly deformed. Glorfindel, who had come in unnoticed and was now taking over the medical procedure, looks at Aragorn with wide eyes. His eyes are swimming with questions, but Aragorn has no answer. Any other living creature would have fallen over the moment such a wound was made. Not _Tuilérë_. _Tuilérë_ had risen, like a phoenix, to fight and to **win** despite it all. Aragorn stays kneeling as the Elves get to work, murmuring amongst themselves in awe as to how this girl is even breathing. They seem to decide on removing the blade first and stemming the bleeding. Aragorn stares on blindly, without focus, still kneeling a few paces from the bed. As the elves ready the necessary towels, water, string and needles, Aragorn loses himself in a mire of self-deprecation, doubt and hatred. The world is dark and soundless, he's trapped in his guilt of being unable to save the one living being who would have gladly given her life for his. He doesn't even know her name. So lost he is, he can't even realize that the real _Tuilérë_ is still alive and breathing. Fighting for her life from the deadly wounds deal by the Wraiths she'd fought. There's sudden brightness, stemming from his hand. His eyes drop to it, and he follows this bright starlight to the eyes of his beloved.

Arwen is leaning over him, a worried expression on her face. He barely has the time to smile in greeting when she drops to her knees beside him, folding her legs neatly beneath her. She smiles beatifically at him, glad to have fished him from his inner darkness. Her hand is still on his as she looks toward the healers, who have begun the process of removing the sword from _Tuilérë_. " _A, melui melethron_ ," she greets him softly. "Will you tell me what happened?" Aragorn shakes his head, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the events of the past fortnight. Arwen, reading his expression, does not press him for answers. Instead, she turns her gaze toward the young woman her heart had brought into her father's haven. To her eyes, this maiden is aflame from within, as though the Gods themselves had taken a nova from the sky and made a woman with it. This energy flows like a river, and Arwen stands as she realizes exactly how miraculous this power is. The Elves currently removing the sword have realized it, too. They stare at her, aghast. "My love, who is this?" Aragorn looks up, his expression dark. Arwen's eyes are wide with awe and fear. "She's healing herself."

Aragorn jerks to his feet, uncomprehending. But even to his human eyes, the effects are somewhat visible. Her spine, which had been horribly deformed, is slowly being realigned. The bruises that had decorated her back were losing color and shape. As the sword is finally removed by careful Elven hands, the wide wound slowly closes even as blood rivulets pour. Her leg, previously broken in two places, is slowly being pulled and the bone being righted. Even the wound on her head seems to be much improved. Without a doubt, even to someone as inexperienced as Aragorn in healing arts, she's healing herself. "This must be the energy Lord Elrond spoke of," Glorfindel says reverently, touching the healing scar. Deciding, he calls for the medics to assist in any way possible, sanitizing and using their own skills to aid the process. Aragorn comes to her other side, touching her hand. As he does so, her lashes flutter. She opens her eyes, which seem to somehow shine from within, and she stares in confusion at her surroundings. Uncomprehending and probably disoriented, her brows come together with an almost audible click. She seems to have trouble focusing, but once she sees all of the unfamiliar faces around her, she vaults to her feet. The Elves step back in shock, surprised she can even stand on a broken leg. _Tuilérë_ lands in front of Aragorn and pushes him back until he's tucked securely in a corner behind her. It doesn't take long for Aragorn to realize she's trying to protect him. She stands defiantly before these gathered strangers, shakily patting her bare legs. _Tuilérë_ doesn't seem bothered by her lack of clothes, but her lack of weapons does seem to upset her. He hears her exhale heavily before focusing entirely on the gathered Elves, her fists raised threateningly.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her attention. Though she doesn't look at him, he can tell she's listening. "We're safe, _Tuilérë_! Safe!" She looks back at him, inspecting him carefully. He's just as disheveled as he was after their fight with the Riders, but no worse for wear. It seems she spots Glorfindel among the crowd, squinting at them even as she wobbles on her feet. There's a commotion just outside the infirmary before four hobbits rush in. They gasp at seeing _Tuilérë_ so heavily wounded, but awake and alive. Aragorn wonders what this must all look like to their eyes. _Tuilérë_ is dripping blood where she stands and barely managing to stay on her feet. He's trapped behind her and the Elves are standing back in fright. Trust the little hobbits to disregard it all and rush to their protector. Merry and Pippin instantly latch onto her hands, while Samwise looks horrified at the amount of blood pooling at her feet. Frodo looks at her every wound as though it should be on his body, not hers. They're all talking so fast and at the same time that even Strider does not know what they're saying. _Tuilérë_ steps forward to push the little ones behind her, still wary of the Elves. "Safe, _Tuilérë_." Aragorn repeats once more. Unlike him, the hobbits had received some Elven hospitality. They were washed, groomed and clearly dressed in clean clothes. _Tuilérë_ glances at the Elves one last time before getting on her knees to look closely at the four hobbits. She pats their faces and shoulders, and Aragorn realizes she's searching them for wounds. She seems to pay special attention to Frodo's shoulder, running her hand over it various times. Nodding to herself, she looks up at him and asks "saifu?" Aragorn nods, hoping she understands his meaning now. Having confirmed this, she blacks out completely, caught before she hits the floor by a timely lunge from Samwise.

The Elves finally surge forward and carry her back to her cot, discussing in low voices amongst themselves. Glorfindel leaves them to it for a moment, coming forward to speak to Aragorn for a bit. The hobbits gather anxiously where they can watch and keep a close eye on their friend, still talking over one another in their worry. Glorfindel corners him, looking almost angry. "You did not say this child was sworn to you, _Dúnadan_." The Elf Lord chastises him in a low hiss. Aragorn shoots him an odd look, confused. Seeing this, Glorfindel stands back, shocked. "My friend, is she not?" At Aragorn's silence, Glorfindel speaks an Elven prayer in reverence. " _Eru Ilúvatar_ be praised," he says softly, before starting to move away. Aragorn catches his arm, pulling him back. He asks the Elf Lord to explain himself, as his remarks made no sense to him. Glorfindel's gaze is kind as he looks back at the pink haired child currently under his care. "That child, my friend, is the most loyal being I have ever met." His eyes slide to the hobbits sitting in a huddle watching the Elves working, and he amends his statement. "Well, among the most loyal I have ever met. I have seen loyalty in all of its forms, but I had never seen it such as to value the life of another well above one's own." Aragorn looks puzzled. Many warriors have laid down their lives for the sake of their people and their homes. Glorfindel smiles and clarifies. "Yes, _Dúnadan_ , but none would take their own life to defend it. This girl-child would put a sword through her own heart before any harm could ever reach you. She stood, through all her pain, and endured until she was sure of your safety. Your _Tuilérë_ is an astonishing creature."

Aragorn says nothing and allows the Elf Lord to get back to his healing. The hobbits rush to his side, clutching at his robes and asking multiple times if he thinks _Tuilérë_ will live. Frodo and Samwise both grab his hands in their despair, seeking comfort, so he leads the hobbits to his spot from before. They huddle in a group as the Elves busy themselves with their patient, now out cold. They speak in low voices, to avoid bothering the working Elves. Arwen has joined the group, lending her strength to the healing that will likely make Elven history. Wounds which would have otherwise killed a human or Elven warrior are being healed in astonishing speed, though the healers are doing little. Aragorn leans against the wall and slumps to the ground, the hobbits quickly following his lead. Merry, Pippin and Samwise hiss and groan in misery as they watch the Elves sew up various cuts and assist in realigning the broken bones in _Tuilérë_ 's leg. Others apply salve to bruises, while the more powerful Elves hold their hands delicately over her back, murmuring softly in prayer. Only Frodo and Strider sit in silence, watching carefully and diligently over their fainted ally. To Frodo, whose eyes have been affected by the close encounter with the Witch-King of Angmar, _Tuilérë_ is bursting from within, pulsing. The Elves are donating bits of their soul into her health, but there is something coming from the air itself. His eyes alight to the window, where the whisper of waving trees is strong, and a gentle music seems to flow. The Rivendell forest, Frodo realizes, is helping their Battle Goddess recover. Frodo's eyes follow the green-golden light of ancient strength and eternal growth. He says nothing, leaning against Strider sleepily, comforted by the power of the land. After a few hours, the rest of the hobbits fall silent as well.

Elrond finds them this way after recovering from Frodo's healing session, looking haggard. The hobbits are leaning up against Aragorn, asleep where they sit. Frodo and Samwise on his left, with Merry and Pippin to his right; Aragorn the only one still keeping vigil over the Elves. His tired eyes are keen, watching as the last of the powerful Elves' drop their hands and tuck _Tuilérë_ securely in her cot. Arwen is especially gentle, glancing at her lover before heading out to sleep. They have done what they can, and must leave her to do the rest. Glorfindel smiles toward his friend, then walks away, touching Lord Elrond's shoulder as he heads out. Elrond strides swiftly to his guests, looking over them with care. Aragorn knows the Elf Lord is wondering how best to move them without disturbing them so they may lay somewhere warm and comfortable. Aragorn shakes his head, refusing. Though the hobbits are deeply asleep, they'd rush to _Tuilérë_ as soon as they woke. It is best, he thinks, to leave them alone. So Elrond instead offers to bring some pillows, which Aragorn accepts. Their conversation is held in whispers to avoid waking the hobbits. Unknown to both, Frodo lies awake, listening. He's lucid enough to feel when Strider moves, replacing his lap with a large set of pillows. Each of the hobbits is smoothly laid on the floor over pillows, and then covered in a cozy blanket. This is the last thing Frodo remembers before closing his eyes, surrounded by the scent of the forest.

* * *

Aragorn stirs from _Tuilérë_ 's bedside when soft starlight seems to fill the room. He rouses himself, sitting up on his chair at her side and looking for the source. The window had been shut and the curtain drawn. The candles nearest the cot and the sleeping hobbits have been blown out, leaving most of the infirmary in near-pitch darkness. The soft lighting disappears for a brief movement, then returns, and Aragorn finds himself staring into two green, fierce embers. His breath catches as he sees _Tuilérë_ awake and watching him, her eyes glowing like _Ilúvatar_ put stars in them. She blinks slowly again, then she inhales softly. She reaches for him, touching his face almost reverently. " _Senshi_ - _sama_ ," she whispers, her voice barely audible. She grins, almost to herself, before speaking again. "Aragorn- _sama_ , _hisashiburi desu ne_ ," Aragorn places his hand up against hers, holding her shaking palm against his face. He smiles into the eerily brilliant gaze of his ally, welcoming her greeting. For a moment, the black diamond on her forehead seems to pulse, releasing a wave of warmth that makes his ally gasp softly. She slumps against the pillows, her hand drooping weakly against his. Her fingers touch his cheek, and she blinks rapidly, losing consciousness. " _Saifu_ …" she murmurs, and closes her eyes. Aragorn places her hand back on the bed, and tucks her in again. He makes her lay on her side, as she'd turned onto her back. He'd been warned to keep her from doing that while he back healed. He stares at her, sitting back onto his chair in thought. However much he learns about her, he may never truly learn all of her secrets, he thinks. His ally is a healer, a fighter, a killer and a gentle soul; Aragorn sends a prayer to all the Spirits.

The young heir to the throne of Gondor sits in total silence as the night finally wanes and falls, allowing for the rise of the sun. With the sun comes the morning bell, tolling over the hush of the autumn morning and waking the sleeping Elves of Rivendell. The hobbits rise at the sound, rubbing their eyes and noisily getting to their feet. They're soon joined by a group of Elves, three of which go to _Tuilérë_ , two who take it upon themselves to convince the hobbits to return to their rooms for a bath and breakfast, and Arwen. The hobbits seem ready to refuse even breakfast, to the surprise of the Elves, until Arwen assures them herself that their friend is in good hands. Merry and Pippin seem thoroughly convinced by the Lady of the house. Samwise, however, is unchanging in his belligerence; he insists on remaining in the room. Only Frodo's gentle voice convinces him to do as he is bid by the daughter of Lord Elrond. The hobbits leave after glancing one last time at their sleeping protector, Merry and Pippin gripping her hands for a moment before running out. Frodo remains to touch her face before being lead out by the Elves, with Sam at his heels. Aragorn watches them go with a smile, before he realizes the reason for Arwen's presence. She doesn't pay heed to his complaints as she pulls him to his feet and none too gently escorts him out as well. "You, my good lad, need food and sleep," she says tartly, ignoring his protests. Neither notice _Tuilérë_ stirring behind them, seeming to wake under this second spell of healing from the Elves.

Unlike the day before, _Tuilérë_ remains pliant beneath their hands, as though sensing their good intentions. Instead, she watches them blearily as they redress her wounds, apply more salve to her bruises and sing softly at the mess of her back. Glorfindel joins them deep into their healing, carrying _Tuilérë_ 's pack in his hands. He'd found it that morning while walking with Lord Elrond around the outskirts of their home. He places it by the end of the cot, intending to stroll back out to breakfast and nearly jumping out of his skin when a powerful hand clamps onto his shin, just under his knee. He stops short, wincing at the tight grip the young woman has on his leg. _Tuilérë_ looks up at him with eyes that seem to burn, weakly gesturing for her pack. Understanding, though wondering if he should allow it, Glorfindel pushes the pack to his patient. He had found an alarming amount of meat and knives in the pack, though he'd ultimately decided not to confiscate the weapons. Lord Elrond may not agree, but as far as Glorfindel was concerned, _Tuilérë_ had shown her trustworthiness a thousand times over. She surprises him by fishing along the side pockets with a shaking hand, ignoring the Elves trying to keep her still on the cot. From this pocket she pulls a tiny, round object, which she brings to her mouth. One of the Elves tries to stop her from swallowing it, but she slaps his interference away with force. As she eats it, the muted, yet bright light all the Elves could see in her core seems to explode.

The Elves yell as they back away, covering their eyes. The light is painful to them; it's unlike anything they have ever seen. Glorfindel stumbles back, tears pouring down his cheeks as he blinks rapidly. The light has faded, and as he tries to recover, he's astounded as his cot-bound patient sits up. To him, the light is pulsing through her hands as she moves, pressing her palms against her sides and pushing it through to her spine, pulling the damage apart on a level even he cannot see. The result is impossible, dramatically healing even the worst of the wounds. He can see it move beneath her skin, among her organs, muscles and bones. Her lungs, which had been worrying him, are reconstructed piece by piece until _Tuilérë_ breathes easy. The stab wound, already scabbing, vanished without a trace, leaving only smooth skin behind. Her leg seems to heal without her guidance, straightening the rest of the way until both of her feet are resting easily on the ground. _Tuilérë_ touches her own head, closing her eyes as her hands direct the force of her energy into the wound. Her skull moves, the pulling even the smallest slivers and reconstructing the bone entirely as the swelling reduces and only dried blood is left in her hair. The Elves watch in shock as the woman they thought near death stands, opening and closing her hands. The light within her pulses quickly and impossibly, racing across a complex set of pathways that start from her navel. _Tuilérë_ cracks her neck and stretches, testing her body as she runs her hands across it. Glorfindel can see her energy follow, encompassing her entirely as if scanning. Whatever idea he had formed in his head about her abilities is blown away completely by what he had just witnessed. Frodo's wound had been healed beyond what he knew to be possible, but whatever she did just now is something he's never before seen in his entire life. He stares at her open mouthed; realizing that whatever he thought about her was entirely mistaken. She is not a healer, she is a Goddess. His eyes slide to his aides and he sees his awe mirrored in their eyes. " _Estë_ ," they whisper amongst themselves, shaken and disturbed by such immense power.

 _Tuilérë_ is blind to their fearful words of worship, probably ignorant of what she had just been called. She sighs gustily, before looking at the mess the Elves made of her clothes in trying to heal her. Her shirt is mostly shredded, leaving only the band around her breasts intact. Her pants were cut when they began their efforts of splintering her leg. She leans down to fish in her pack once more, finding a moderately clean set of clothes. _Tuilérë_ casts about for a moment, when a meek Elf offers something. Her cloak and pouches have been folded neatly, using the complex ties of her things to keep them together. She looks at this gathered company and smiles a bit, almost sheepishly. She bows toward them, taking her things. She doesn't use them to shield herself from the eyes of the male Elves, entirely comfortable in her own skin the way most she-Elves would be only in a proper evening gown and a good set of pearls. She blurs before their eyes, and in a sweep of material, she's fully dressed and stuffing her ruined clothes into the black pack Glorfindel had brought. The Elves watch her in amazement, still unable to comprehend how she went from bedridden to completely healed in the span of two dozen heartbeats. The young woman nods to them in thanks, before striding purposefully toward the window. Clearly, she intends to leave; Glorfindel surges forward to stop her when something alarming comes to his attention almost immediately. The energy, once near-blinding and bright, stutters and dims. Her steps falter and she lists to the side. Glorfindel is by her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. The light he had seen within her had faded drastically, leaving her with barely an ember of power. Her legs are shaking and she trembles in his arms. Glorfindel clicks his tongue, wondering if he should be furious with his patient. He realizes, however, _Tuilérë_ has always behaved. Even out on the Road, she had remained aloof, out of their grasp and independent. Being here, crippled and wounded, is probably against her nature. As he gathers her more securely to take her back to bed, a sudden noise stops him.

The gathered Elves freeze as a low growl rips across the infirmary. Glorfindel glances down, unsure, and green eyes stare up at him in shame. _Tuilérë_ 's face is beet red, her lips pursed in embarrassment. Glorfindel smiles, chuckling as he escorts her back to bed. She wobbles, but does her best to determinately walk back on her newly healed legs. Her inner strength astounds him. He has more pressing matters, however, as he gently lowers her onto the cot. His aides do not wait for his orders, a few of them smothering smiles, as they head out to bring a hefty breakfast for their patient. _Tuilérë_ sits heavily ashamed of her very human need, her arms wrapped protectively around her vocal stomach, muffling the noise. Glorfindel kneels, looking up at her. Her eyes shift from him to the window, as if wondering if she should make a break for it despite her weakness. To seem a little less looming, Glorfindel tucks his legs beneath him, sitting cross legged on the floor. _Tuilérë_ stares at him for a moment before mirroring him from her spot on her cot, watching him with interest. He smiles and she blinks, surprised. He pats his chest and says "Glorfindel" in his clearest voice. His eyes glow softly as he puts power and persuasion into his voice, hoping perhaps this time he'll get her to give up her name.

She reaches for him, her fingers still trembling slightly. _Tuilérë_ touches his face gently, caressing his cheek and the outline of his face, memorizing the handsome contours on his visage. She refuses to introduce herself, though, merely tapping his cheek and repeating his name. She surprises him when she keeps saying the things he taught her, "Gurofinderu, Erfu," she remarks, before gesturing to the general area, "Eastu, Rivenderu" Glorfindel positively glows with pride, only to be further delighted when she counts slowly from one to nine, holding up a finger for each number. Perhaps this is something the Ranger taught her. When she gets to ten, however, she pauses, watching him. Guessing she must not know how to say it, he supplies it, smiling when she repeats after him a few times before starting over. Just as she reaches ten the third time, Erestor comes in, bearing plates heaped with breakfast on a tray. Glorfindel is surprised his friend is the one delivering the food, but says nothing as the dark haired Elf sets the spread before their guest. _Tuilérë_ looks at the food unsurely, trying to refuse, but the two Elder Elves are determined to see her fed. She eventually relents, glaring at them petulantly with eyes that flash brilliant green, before tucking her hair neatly behind her ears and eating primly. Glorfindel hovers close, counting every bite she takes and insisting she dig into the steamed vegetables, chicken and white rice. Once she finishes everything, he promptly whisks the tray back into Erestor's hands, shoving his friend back. Erestor eyeballs him, but says nothing, smiling pleasantly at the pink haired maiden. Then she yawns widely, covering her mouth politely. Glorfindel pushes her onto the bed, sweeping the sheets up to her shoulder. _Tuilérë_ struggles briefly, calling for Aragorn. Somewhat nonplussed, Glorfindel chuckles. He had not thought she would seek the Ranger. "He is safe," he says soothingly, pushing her down with even greater strength. _Tuilérë_ relents, though she doesn't look pleased. She grumbles in her own tongue, and Glorfindel muses she's likely saying something very unkind. It doesn't surprise him when she breathes easy within moments, asleep almost as soon as she laid down.

Glorfindel doesn't hesitate to usher Erestor out almost violently, wanting his patient to rest as much as possible. He suspects that whatever she did to herself in order to be healthy so quickly must have taken much of the energy she had gained so miraculously from eating the round pebble she'd taken out of her pack. Erestor doesn't protest until they are well out of hearing distance, gently stepping out of Glorfindel's reach. " _Man-ie, nildo_?" he asks, straining to look back over Glorfindel's shoulder. He doesn't wait for Glorfindel to answer, instead getting to the point. "Is that the child Elrond spoke of? The Ranger's _Makar_?" Glorfindel crosses his arms, raising an imperious brow. Erestor shamelessly stares back, open curiosity on his face. Clearly, the Elf Lord had no qualms strong arming Glorfindel's aides into letting him take the food tray to their patient, simply for the sake of satisfying his curiosity. Glorfindel has expected this. In fact, he's rather surprised that more Elves aren't peering into the infirmary to get a glance at this woman who looks like Spring itself and killed several of the Black Riders. The blond Elf rather suspects that Elrond has threatened curiosity seekers with actual bodily harm. Apparently, that isn't enough to dissuade Erestor. "Well? Is she?" the dark haired Elf asks petulantly, crossing his own arms.

"If she is, _nildo_ , that is not your business," Glorfindel snaps, placing his hands on his hips. His eyes slide to the side, and he near smirks. "Though if you wish, you can ask him yourself." Erestor turns, wide eyed as Aragorn makes his way back to the infirmary. The _Dúnadan_ is striding purposefully, his eyes focused forward. It reminds Glorfindel slightly of his patient when she tried to escape to the window. Erestor recoils. He may not put a damper on his curiosity for Lord Elrond, but Aragorn, son of Arathorn, is another matter entirely. The legendary Ranger, while kind and welcomed among Elves, is rightly feared for his prowess. Not even the twins Elrohir and Elledan together could best him in a sword fight and he was known to have something of a temper if provoked. Erestor would first tuck tail and run than try to cross _Elessar_. Aragorn, noting their scrutiny, prowls toward them. Glorfindel knows the Ranger does not mean to look threatening on purpose; it is simply in his nature. This is enough to put Erestor to heel, which is what Glorfindel had been aiming for by pointing out the _Dúnadan_. Aragorn does not smile, but he does nod slightly in greeting. Erestor nods back and makes a tactical retreat, asking his friend to join him at the lunch hall once he's done with his duties. Glorfindel smiles beatifically, waving him away with a laugh. Aragon watches him go before turning to the blond Elf Lord, looking curious. Glorfindel shrugs one shoulder elegantly, before patting Aragorn's arm in a friendly manner.

"Your _Tuilérë_ woke up a while ago," he informs him. "She's fully healed now, but the process has exhausted her. She ate breakfast and is now sleeping again." Aragorn looks relieved, sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair. The Ranger's haggard appearance doesn't escape the Elf, no matter how much neater he looks now. Aragorn has not slept in well over forty-eight hours and its worrying Glorfindel. He thought Arwen had managed to cajole him into bed, but perhaps she only managed to get him to have a bath and some food. Giving Aragorn a critical onceover, Glorfindel looks stern. " _Tuilérë_ might not be the only one needing bed rest, _Dúnadan_." The tone of his voice is rock solid, and there's an undercurrent threat. If Strider doesn't comply, Glorfindel is considering tossing him onto a bed forcefully. Erestor may shy from confrontation, but Glorfindel has faced a Balrog and **won**. A human, even one descended from Númenor, does not dent his confidence. Aragorn nods, rubbing his face tiredly. It seems he understands the risk of facing one of the mighty Firstborn.

"Be as it may, my friend, I will remain at her side," Aragorn states clearly, taking a deep breath and smiling softly. " _Tuilérë_ is my ally, my… **friend**. I will not abandon her in an unknown place." Glorfindel pats his shoulder again, shaking his head in defeat. Perhaps, he had been mistaken in thinking _Tuilérë_ was the one who had sworn her life to the Ranger. By all appearances, they had both sworn fealty to each other, though perhaps they had not realized it yet. For someone so human, Aragorn shows remarkable likeness to the Elves who raised him. In any case, Glorfindel had already prepared in case Aragorn refused to take a break and rest as he should. Gesturing for Strider to follow, Glorfindel leads him into the infirmary and gestures toward an empty, ready-made cot right next to _Tuilérë_. The pink haired powerhouse is still asleep, her breathing easy and relaxed. Aragorn, seeing her so peacefully curled up into a ball under the covers, smiles. He reaches toward her for a moment before deciding against it. Glorfindel pokes him in the ribs, reminding him to get into the bed or else. Aragorn rolls his eyes but does as he is bid. As he had done with _Tuilérë_ , Glorfindel fusses with the covers, making the Ranger snort. Glorfindel pointedly pulls the covers over Aragorn, tucking him in. The Ranger may be over eighty years old, but that lifespan is peanuts to an Elf who saw the Days of Bliss. Tossing his hair over his shoulder, Glorfindel smartly gestures, making wind circulate and blowing out all the candles. He leaves the windows open, but draws the curtains, putting the room in near total darkness. With one last sweep of the room with his gaze, Glorfindel shuts the double doors. At least, Aragorn sleeps.

* * *

Aragorn jerks awake thought he doesn't know what has roused him. The room is dark, but starlight is filtering in. Aragorn can hear the heavy breathing of the hobbits, probably having snuck in when Glorfindel wasn't looking. He can see the vague shape of the four figures littered around _Tuilérë_ 's bed, but the bed is empty. Pippin apparently pulled the blanket down over his body at some point, sharing with Merry. Frodo's head is on Sam's lap, who sleeps leaning up against the cot. Aragorn sits up, his gaze scanning the room. Whatever woke him must have registered on his senses, and his heart nearly stops when he sees what it is. A dark figure is perched on the metal window sill, black cloak billowing like a raven's wings behind her. _Tuilérë_ looks back at him when she hears him rise, her green eyes bright and alive. At last, he can see his ally is awake and well. She straightens, balancing on the balls of her feet along the thin railing. Something in her eyes makes him anxious, making him run as silently as he can toward her. She flinches just enough to prove his point. She had been trying to sneak out. She was ready to abandon them again, to fly out of his reach. The realization makes his heart race and he chokes back tears. All of this, and she would have left them as soon as she could. She would have left without saying goodbye, possibly for forever. She isn't from here, after all. If all that kept her by their side was the danger they were in, she would surely leave for good this time. He shakes his head, quietly begging her to stay. Her pack is on her back already and she's dressed in full armor. The Elves had taken it from her, but they had not hidden it well enough from _Tuilérë_. It's still bloody and stained from the battle yesterday. She is dressed to leave, even though she is still disheveled and clearly exhausted. Aragorn had thought perhaps them fighting together; keeping vigil over her while she healed… he thought _Tuilérë_ would realize she could trust him.

 _Tuilérë_ looks between him and the forest outside, her brows coming together. He can see her thinking and he wonders if he ought to try to pull her back. Before he can, though, she does something that takes his breath away. _Tuilérë_ turns her body toward him and offers him her hand. Aragorn stares at it for a moment, wondering what she's trying to say. He looks up at her face, then back down. She wiggles her fingers in response, enticing him to grab her hand. So Aragorn does so. _Tuilérë_ pulls him up beside her onto the railing, grinning impishly. Though Aragorn grew up in Rivendell, he'd never done something like this. He feels the heady rush of adrenaline, wondering what his ally is up to. She takes out a black knife wrapped in a white piece of paper, taking a moment to show it to him. Aragorn touches it, and feels it hum, alive beneath his touch. It's warm, and he can feel something strange about the space around the white paper. It's as if the air around the paper is curling inwards, being sucked into an invisible vortex. He snatches his hand away, surprised. _Tuilérë_ catches his forearm before he stumbles back and down several stories into the courtyard below. The infirmary looks out into the cliffs, and several of Elrond's best gardens are a few floors below, accessed only through hidden passages and various flights of stairs. It's a beautiful view, one the Elves used to encourage healing in whatever patients visited the infirmary. _Tuilérë_ , however, is facing the forest.

Aragorn looks into the twinkling gaze of his ally, and he can feel himself smiling widely. The forest is singing, the night is fresh and sweet, Rivendell is asleep and Aragorn's heart is leaping. _Tuilérë_ aims and throws. Her knife just reaches the trees when _Tuilérë_ pulls him closer, jumps and they're sailing among the leaves. Aragorn doesn't have time to panic when _Tuilérë_ swings him deftly onto a sturdy branch, falling further herself with the knife in her hands. She jumps back up in a single, gravity-defying leap, giggling. Aragorn looks back toward the balcony, breathless at the distance they had crossed in the span of an instant. Again, _Tuilérë_ offers her hand. There is a question in her laughing eyes; one Aragorn doesn't hesitate to answer. He puts his hand in hers, trusting her completely on this strange, exhilarating journey. " _Ikuzo_!" _Tuilérë_ invites him, flying further into a forest that welcomes her with rushing leaves, creaking boughs and waving vines. He realizes she's at home in the canopy, despite probably never having been here before. Her expression is adventurous and he can tell she's thoroughly enjoying her good health and freedom of movement. Aragorn doesn't know where she's taking him, but he doesn't mind all that much. He lets her pull him, and the word _ally_ in his mind is replaced by _friend_.

 **To be Continued…**

* * *

 **Words: 7,100**

 **Estë** **is counted among the Valier and known for her skill in healing. She is basically the Goddess of Healing.**

Translations

Sindarin:

 _Elessar_ : Aragorn's Elven name.  
 _Av 'osto_ : do not be afraid.  
 _Boe de nestad_ : He/She needs healing.  
 _A, melui melethron_ : Hello, my sweet lover (masculine)  
 _Dúnadan_ : Aragorn's race name, meaning "man of the West", used as a title for him by the Elves.  
 _Man-ie, nildo_ : what is it, friend?  
 _Nildo_ : friend (masc.)

Japanese:

 _Tasukete:_ save me  
 _Senshi-sama:_ meaning "Master Warrior" or "Lord Warrior", which is Sakura's nickname for Aragorn  
 _Hisashiburi desu ne:_ I haven't seen you in a while (Sakura is being ironic).  
 _Ikuzo_ : let's go

 **Sakura's clone said "tasukete", but as the U is pronounced in tandem with a hard S, to Aragorn it sounded like "taskete!"**

 **I always thought that the death of a** _ **kage**_ _ **bushin**_ **, or shadow clone, was so sad. They literally transfer all of their knowledge after their deaths to their creator; they could be stabbed, gutted, burned alive or beaten to death. I always thought that the reason the Nidaime made that technique a "Forbidden Technique" wasn't because it was too powerful. (I mean, you need a DEEP well of chakra to use it in battle efficiently. Like jinchuriki deep.) I thought he made it forbidden because, well, you literally receive all of the information from your clone, right? Including the pain of what caused them to disappear or "die". I always considered this something that could potentially damage someone psychologically, or even drive them mad. For someone like Aragorn, who does not know that a clone is basically disposable, it'd be like watching his friend and ally die. And he's not wrong, actually. Which is the saddest part of all.**

 **Yes, Glorfindel used Elf-magic when he tried to get Sakura to give up her name. But Sakura is a ninja and his Elf-bamboozlement doesn't work on her.**

 **Ah, the next chapter may take more than three months; I cannot set a date this time. I did myself a dirty and may vanish from the land for about ten to twelve weeks sometime in the next six months. Think of it as my own trip to Middle-Earth. I'll explain in detail on my profile later, ok?**

 **Last thing, putting an end to this long-ass A/N that no one will read; someone asked if I'll have Sakura genjutsu her origin and story as some sort of magical slide-show of exposition.**

 **I have questions in response...**

 **Is Sakura a** _ **ninja**_ **?** Yes, she is.  
 **Is she from a** _ **Hidden Nation**_ **?** Yes, she is.  
 **Would a** _ **ninja**_ **denizen of a** _ **Hidden**_ _ **Nation**_ **expose her home and its secrets to strangers from a different land?** No, she would not.

 **Draw your own conclusions from there, dear readers. (The answer is no.)**

 **I may have sounded pompous, but if I'm being so hard-headed about this story that I made a language barrier, I made chakra a plot-point and Sakura is a ninja so true she's spooking the populous of Middle-Earth; do you really think I'll have her genjutsu-exposition her story, origin and home? The people she loves? Sakura is being so secretive, she won't even introduce herself. She was forced to quick-heal herself and her first reaction is to escape Rivendell. What does that tell you?**


End file.
